Tall Ship
by jane0904
Summary: Next in the Mal/Freya 'verse. Angst. And more angst. Coming back from a meet, Mal might be lost forever, and the crew find it hard to cope. Did I say angst? Please read, review, and enjoy! Now complete, but more to come.
1. Chapter 1

A.N.: For Kristafied - see, I'm still around!

* * *

Mal left the bar, smiling. It had been a good meet, and he'd got the next job lined up. Paying well, too, with half up front. Keep everyone flying for a while longer. He didn't want to rely on Inara's charity, even though he knew she was more than willing to give them a home whenever they needed it. Trouble was, in the past few weeks jobs seemed hard to come by, and what there was tended to be things he'd like to avoid, even if he would have taken them in the past. But now, with kids on board … anyway, at least there was something to look forward to.

And the fact that he'd been propositioned hadn't done his ego any harm at all.

He wouldn't normally have gone to the meet on his own, although Barrick had insisted. Still, he cheated a little and had Jayne get to the bar half an hour beforehand. He looked like a fixture by the time Mal arrived and headed into the small back room.

"It's a pick up on Beylix, delivering to a private address on Hammond," Barrick said, nervously running his fingers around his collar.

Mal would normally have taken this as a sign that something was about to go wrong, but Barrick was notorious. "You know, you should seriously consider finding yourself a new line of business," Mal said conversationally. "I wouldn't be surprised if you ain't heading to give yourself an ulcer."

Barrick grimaced, pressing one hand to his stomach. "Too late," he said.

"Then why don't you get out of the work?"

"Someone has to broker these deals." Barrick swallowed hastily. "And I make a good living."

"It ain't worth it if you ain't got your health."

"I'm fine." He pulled a box from his pocket and fished a flat white tablet out. Popping it into his mouth he washed it down with the whisky in front of him.

"Then you need to see a doctor," Mal advised.

"I do. Often." Barrick sat up a little. "So you can do this? Only there's a deadline. Beylix in four days, Hammond before the month's out."

Mal nodded. "We can do it."

Barrick visibly relaxed. He put a small leather pouch down on the table. "Half now, half on delivery."

"Shiny." Mal stowed it into an inside pocket.

The other man stood up. "Let me leave first. Give me five minutes before you follow, _dong mah_?"

"You really that afraid?"

"It's kept me alive this long, Mal," Barrick pointed out, glancing around as if someone might jump out at him right now.

"Definitely find a new line of work."

"Maybe." He half-smiled and headed out into the bar.

For maybe two minutes Mal sat at the table, whistling tunelessly to himself, before he decided it was long enough. Strolling out into the smoke and noise, he headed to the bar.

"_Ching – zie lie ee bay sake_," he said to the barman, who nodded and poured him a glassful of colourless liquid, taking the note he proffered and making change.

"Get it?"

Mal lifted the glass and took a sip. "Got it."

"And the money?"

"Inside pocket." He felt Jayne's hand slip into his coat, and suddenly he felt a lot lighter. "Get it back to the ship."

"On my way." Jayne stretched a little, his mouth barely moving. "You staying?"

"Just finishing my drink."

"See you back on Serenity." He threw the last of the whisky into his mouth and ambled out of the bar, the cold air outside barely making a dent on the heat within.

Mal almost smiled and lifted the glass, then looked up sharply as the man next to him took a step back and knocked his arm, causing a small drop of sake to spill onto his hand. "Careful," he admonished calmly, but the man ignored him.

"You'll do as I tell you," he said loudly to someone Mal couldn't see.

"Hey, friend," Mal said. "Can you keep it down? Some of us just want a quiet drink."

The man looked over his shoulder at him but didn't respond. Instead he turned back to the woman in front of him, saying, "You hear? You do what I want." He raised his hand to strike her, but suddenly found himself unable to do so. Mal had gripped his wrist, and although he tried to pull it free he couldn't.

"Hey. Friend." Mal spoke quietly. "Why don't I buy you a drink? Give you a chance to calm down somewhat. Make you think twice before threatening a lady."

"She ain't no lady."

"I'd have to say you're wrong in that suggestion. So why don't you take that drink?"

"I don't need to –"

"Don't be taking it as a suggestion."

The man glared at Mal, but glanced down at the obviously well-kept and probably well-used gun at his hip. He put his head down, not wanting to look Mal in the eyes, and scurried out, grumbling to himself.

"You okay?" Mal asked the woman. Well, girl – probably not much older than Kaylee.

"Yes. Thanks."

"You're welcome." Mal picked up his glass again, then realised the girl had stepped close, very much closer, her hand on his arm.

"If there's anything I can do to repay your kindness … anything … " She ran a finger down the back of his hand, smiling in what she presumably considered a seductive manner.

Mal looked up into her face, painted but still showing her youth, despite her profession. "Thanks," he said. "But I'm married." He held up his left hand, the gold ring glinting on his third finger. "I appreciate the offer, though."

"Maybe your wife would like to join us. I'd be willing."

Despite the mental image that fled across Mal's mind without looking both ways first, he shook his head. "I don't think she'd approve. Very straight-laced, my missus. In fact, she'd probably shoot me just for talking to you."

The girl took a small step back. "Well, if you change your mind …"

He smiled at her. "I'll bear it in mind."

She'd gone to the back of the bar then, but he could feel her watching him. He finished his drink quickly and walked outside into what passed for Three Hills winter. He bundled up his coat, pulling it tighter. It had snowed again whilst he was inside, and the fresh fall crunched quite pleasantly under his feet. Frey often said she could never get used to this, the different seasons depending on where they landed. Spring one place, then a week later it was fall, with no summer in between, except the next planet was hot and dry. The only place it felt right was on board Serenity.

He grinned. Good to get home. He began to trudge back to the docks.

-

"He's on his way back," Freya said, leaning through the bridge door. "And he's happy."

"He got us the job?" Hank asked, turning in the pilot's seat.

"Feels like it. And got paid half in advance."

"Good. Got the urge to eat coming on again."

"So soon?" She laughed. "I thought you had food last week."

"Really? Only that far back?" He shook his head. "I must be slipping."

Freya grinned. "Well, we can get a few supplies in now."

"Need to refuel some, too. Depending on where the job is."

"Don't know."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Are you kidding me? You saying you weren't listening to that entire conversation?"

"Control, Hank. Control."

"Yeah. Right." He smiled. "Still, it'll be good to be working for a while."

"Always does."

"As much as I like lazing around playing with my son as the … Freya?"

Her face had gone white and the smile died. "Mal …" she whispered. Then screamed out, "Mal!" She turned and ran towards the cargo bay as doppler screams rang through Serenity from Bethany's room and the shuttle.

"Hank?" Zoe asked, stepping out of the galley.

"I think it's the captain." He knew she was right behind him as they pounded down the stairs.

-

Hot coffee. Hot bed. Hot wife. That was what he needed, what he wanted right now. Something to drive the chill out of his bones. Maybe he was getting older, but sometimes it took longer in the mornings to get going. Simon probably had some long fancy name for it, and would talk for five minutes without making any sense whatsoever, but … maybe all it boiled down to was age. Hell, he wasn't that old, but he had more scars than a man with his years should have. Perhaps he should get Freya to give him a massage too. His grin widened. Yeah, sounded good. And then he'd prove just how young he was. And who knows? Maybe tonight she'd let him –

A flash of gunfire close by followed immediately by the crack of the bullet didn't even register. What did was the searing pain in his head, and his neck snapped back. A second gunshot hit him in the belly, pushing him to the ground. He lay on the snow, staring up into the dark sky, seeing a figure moving towards him. He tried to move his hand, to pull his own gun from its holster, but his body wouldn't obey him. All he could do was try to breathe, and that was getting harder with every moment as agony coursed through his system.

He felt someone undo his gunbelt, drag it from around his hips, then lift his left hand. _No, please_, he wanted to say. _Least wait 'til I'm dead to take that_. But his lips couldn't form the words as he felt the wedding band being tugged from his finger. He could barely feel the dislocation of the bone above the rest of the pain.

The figure began to undo his coat, had almost managed to pull it off him, but then stopped. The head lifted, almost scenting the air.

Someone coming, Mal thought. Maybe there was time after all. Maybe not. He was rolling, being pushed towards the sound of the river, booming with the race of fast death. Then he was falling, hitting a wall of cold that shocked all the breath out of him, and darkness claimed him.

-

Freya ran through the snow, not caring about the cold, not feeling it, just running. He was fading, and as hard as she tried to hold on he was slipping through her fingers like sand. She knew the others were behind, Zoe, Hank, River … Simon with his medbag … but she was losing him.

"Frey?" Jayne was ahead, staring at them hurtling towards them. "What –"

"Mal," was all River said as they passed him.

"_Qiang bao hou zi de hun dan_," he muttered, turning and following them, back the way he'd come.

Freya stopped, skidding in the snow, staring down.

"Freya," Zoe said, pulling up beside her, then she saw where her friend was looking. Red blood on the white snow. Lots of it. Too much.

Jayne swore again, then started to look around. "There's a trail," he said quietly. "More blood. Looks like someone was dragged. Or maybe rolled."

They followed him, Freya at his shoulder, River only a step behind. Then they were at the river, rushing past in the darkness, the sound of branches crashing against boulders just a short distance ahead.

"Frey …" Hank began, his face as white as the snow.

"Someone went in here," Jayne said, hunching down. He pointed to the signs. "Looks like they were swept away."

"Jayne," Zoe said warningly.

"Weren't saying it was the Cap. Just that someone -"

"It was him," Freya said suddenly. "I felt the water …"

"Maybe you felt wrong," the big man said, looking at River, anger heating him as he saw her shake her head. Still, he went on, "Might not even be his blood. Could be some other poor bastard got –"

"It's his," Simon said, looking at the small scanner in his hand. "I've just tested … it's his."

"We need to search," Freya said. "Along the banks. Maybe he managed to climb out. There might be a pool, an eddy … he might have got caught and he's waiting for …" She fell to her knees, and immediately Zoe was down with her, looking into her face.

"Freya."

"I can't feel him," she said, no sound coming from her mouth, just forming the words. "I can't feel him any more." Her eyes were anguished, tormented. "Zoe …"

The dark woman looked up at Jayne. "Go get the sheriff, or whatever passes for law in this place. We need to organise a search party."

"In that?" The big man nodded towards the swollen river.

"Do it."

Jayne nodded and jogged off.

Freya was beginning to shake. "We have to find him, Zoe," she whispered. "We have to find him."

"We will, honey," Zoe said, taking her into her arms. "Don't worry about that. We'll find the captain."

River didn't speak, just hugged her arms around herself, shivering with more than the cold.

-

Kaylee was sitting holding Bethany, just moving backwards and forwards, trying to let the rhythm soothe her little daughter.

"Momma?" Bethie stiffened.

"What is it, sweetheart?"

"Oh, Momma. Uncle Mal …" She turned her face into her mother's chest, and let the tears burst from beneath her eyelids.

"No," Kaylee moaned. "No. It can't be."

"Auntie Kaylee?"

She looked up, saw Ethan standing in the doorway, his stuffed alligator clutched to his chest. His eyes were huge, terrified. "Baby …" she said softly, holding out her arms, and he ran to her, clambering into her lap next to Bethany.

"Daddy …" he whispered, tears rolling down his cheeks.

-

"There ain't no sign," the sheriff said, chewing on his wad of tobacco. "This river goes into the sea, not thirty miles from here. He'll be long gone by now."

"Did you search both banks?" Zoe asked, glancing at Freya, sitting so quietly in the corner of the office, River standing ramrod straight at her side. Each woman had a blanket thrown around their shoulders, but they were gaining no warmth from them.

The sheriff was sympathetic, but knew it was pointless sugar-coating the inevitable. "Both. For around ten miles. But no-one comes outta that river, not this time of year, even if they're able-bodied. And if he was hurt going in …"

Zoe took a deep breath and held it for a moment before exhaling slowly. "Yes."

"All we found was that." He pointed to the coat on the table, its leather drying stiffly. "Caught up on a tree root. Nothing else." The bullet hole was clearly visible, right where a heart would beat beneath it.

Freya put out a trembling hand to touch it, feeling it almost crack under her fingers. "Needs to be cleaned," she said, almost a whisper. "He won't like it when he comes back, finds it like this. Need to use saddle soap, maybe oil, get it soft again." She stood up, gathering it to herself, the blanket falling from her. "Need to … need to …" She stared at Zoe. "Need to …" Her knees gave out as her eyes rolled into the back of her head, and Jayne only just managed to catch her in time before she slid to the floor.


	2. Chapter 2

Simon had brought Freya round from her faint, waving a broken capsule under her nose, but it was as if she'd left part of herself behind in the darkness of unconsciousness. There was something missing from her as she walked out of the sheriff's office, carrying Mal's browncoat, the others following as they headed back to the Firefly.

"What do we do now?" Simon whispered to Zoe.

"I … I don't know," the dark woman admitted. "It's not like we can have a funeral, but … I don't know."

"I can't believe Mal's dead."

Zoe looked at him. "There were times when we neither of us thought to be coming home, to Serenity or anywhere else," she said softly. "When we thought it was gonna be our last sight of the sun, or the moon, or the shell-filled darkness of a battlefield. But we always came for each other. Were there, to save each other." She shook her head. "Only this time I wasn't."

"Do you think there's any chance he might have survived?"

For a long moment she allowed herself the possibility of hope, then she saw again in her mind's eye the river, the huge lumps of debris crashing into the rocks. "Don't see how, Simon. Not with the way that water was running. But without a body …"

"Then maybe -"

"No. No, there ain't." She glanced towards the woman walking in front of them. "Most I think we can look forward to is news of his body being found, and if that river goes into the sea, that ain't likely either."

"It's my fault," Jayne said, his arm wrapped around River's shoulders as she stumbled along, lost inside his coat that he'd insisted she put on. "Told me to get the cash back to the boat."

"Why'd he do that?" Hank asked.

"In case Barrick tried to get a refund, I guess."

"You think it was him?"

"Nah. He ain't one to do that. Too afraid of his own shadow."

"But if someone thought Mal had cash on him …"

"We don't know it was because of that," Zoe put in quickly.

"Yeah, but if I'd been with him -"

"No-one's blaming you."

"Hell, Zoe, I am! If'n I'd stayed, walked back with him, Mal … Mal'd still be alive." His face darkened. "And Freya'd not be dying inside right now."

"Pain," River whispered. "So much pain she's trying to hide from it."

"That what she's doing, moonbrain?" He looked down at her. "Anything we can do?"

"Bring Mal back."

"Wishin' we could," Jayne said fervently as Serenity's bulk loomed up. "Truly wishin' we could."

Freya walked up the ramp.

Kaylee was standing in the middle of the cargo bay, Bethany holding tightly to her leg. "Frey?"

She didn't answer, didn't even see her, just climbed the metal staircase, a pile of stiff brown leather in her arms.

The mechanic turned to the others. "Tell me it ain't true," she begged, tears coursing down her cheeks. "Not the Captain."

Simon pulled her into his arms, feeling Bethany shivering against him. "I'm sorry, _bao bei_. It's true."

"No …" Kaylee wailed. "Mal …"

Jayne helped River up the stairs to their shuttle, closing the door, but not before the sound of crying reached those left in the bay.

Hank swallowed. "We … we have to tell Inara," he said, feeling numb.

"I'll do it. Better coming from me," Zoe said quickly.

"Not good coming from anyone," Simon pointed out, half turning towards her.

"No. But with Freya like this …"

"Are you sure you don't want me to?" the young doctor offered. "I've … I've passed on bad news before."

"Thanks, but … I'm first mate - it's my job." She walked slowly up the steps towards the bridge. "Better look to your wife and daughter."

"God, what about Ethan?" Hank said suddenly. "If he's picked up on any of this …"

"He's in the nursery upstairs," Kaylee said, trying to control the sobs that wanted to break out fresh. "Zoe, he knows. He's -"

Before she could finish the door to the shuttle above them flew open, and River ran along the catwalk, disappearing through the doorway, even as Jayne followed her out and stood staring after her.

"I think she's taking care of that," Zoe commented, feeling as if the weight of the world were on her shoulders.

-

"No! Dear Buddha, no!" Her hand was at her throat, and from the paleness of her complexion Zoe wondered whether Inara was about to faint. "Tell me you're joking."

"I wish I was, Inara." She wanted to break down herself, but she had to keep control of herself. "I really wish I was."

"But are you sure?" Tears were falling onto the satin of her dress, the stains almost hidden amongst the embroidery. "I mean, did you … did you see him?"

"No." Zoe couldn't stand the sudden look of hope on Inara's face. "He went into the river. But we have his coat. There's a bullet hole right where -"

"No!" Inara almost screamed, and Sam hurried into range of the vid.

"'Nara?"

"Oh, Sam! Sam!" She clung to him, her body shaking.

"What is it?" He looked at the screen. "Zoe?"

"Mal's dead." There. She'd said it again. So easy. Two words. Eight letters. And it felt like every single one of them were cutting into her heart.

All trace of colour left Sam's olive skin, and his grip tightened on the woman in his arms. "What happened?"

"Not sure." Zoe went over the bare details, the few facts they knew, seeing Inara collapse even more.

"Are you … do you _know_ he's dead?" Sam asked, but the grey tone in his face made it obvious he believed her.

"Pretty much."

"_Fo bang yu-zhou_." He closed his eyes for a moment. "How's Freya?"

Inara looked up, her face a mask of guilt. She hadn't asked.

"Not good." Zoe glanced over her shoulder. "She's just sitting in the galley, staring at the Captain's … at Mal's coat."

"Is that all -"

"All we found." She tried to swallow back the lump forming in her throat. "She's just sitting. Hasn't even been to see Ethan and Jesse, and that little boy's -" She stopped, aware even with the grief planted in her chest that this wasn't necessarily a secure line. "She just sits. And it's been more'n seven hours since she … since we lost him."

"We were … we were out on a picnic," Inara said, a complex range of emotions in her eyes, but mostly disgust that they should be having fun when her friends were dying.

"You couldn't know, Inara," Zoe assured her, wishing someone would do that for her.

"You have to get her to talk," Sam put in. "Zoe, you have to get her to talk. It's imperative." He let his profession give him a veneer of calm. "Shout, scream, throw things … anything except just sitting."

"She's not said a word either, not since we got back."

"Then you have to make her. Zoe, talk to Simon. He'll know what to do, and if he needs help tell him to wave me."

"Thanks."

"And watch her."

Inara stiffened. "Sam, you don't think she'd -"

"I hope not. But from what I saw of their relationship, the way they're so _jian zhen bu qu …_"

"No, please, not that." If anything Inara went even whiter in his arms.

Sam looked down at her. "I'm not saying she will, but it'll be wise to keep an eye on her."

Zoe nodded, understanding, remembering what it was like to lose a husband, to have half of herself ripped away. "I will."

"If there's else anything I can do …"

"Not sure there is."

"Are you coming here? I can talk to Freya, help her to -"

"I don't know, Sam. I suppose it's up to her now."

"Zoe," Inara broke in urgently.

"What?"

She nodded her head, having seen behind her what Zoe hadn't.

The first mate turned, then stood quickly, facing the woman standing in the bridge doorway. "Freya." She glanced back at the screen. "I was just -"

She may as well not have spoken. "Get hold of Barrick. We need to know the arrangements Mal made."

"What?"

"He got us a job, and it's a tight schedule, I know that, and if we don't go now we won't make it. Got paid half, too. Jayne has the money."

"Frey -"

"We have a reputation to think about. So we do the job. Get it done." She turned and walked away, passing Hank as he turned the corner from the cargo bay. He watched as she went back into the galley, sitting down again by Mal's coat lying on the table.

"Honey?" Hank climbed the steps to the bridge.

Zoe shook her head and turned back to the screen. "Sam …"

The therapist was firm. "I need to speak to her. Soon. Can you get her here?"

"You heard her. She wants us to finish the job."

Sam thought for a moment. "Then you'd better do it. But get to Lazarus soon as you can."

They gazed at each other over the wave, and Zoe nodded. "I will."

"We'd better go. Let you do what you need to," Inara said, drawing herself up. "But please … let me know if you hear anything else."

"Goes without saying, 'Nara."

"Thank you."

The screen went to static and Zoe turned it off.

"You can't be serious," Hank said softly.

"I am. So was she." She took a deep breath. "Get hold of Barrick."

"Zoe, how can she …" He couldn't find the words.

"Just get him."

"But what about -"

"Do it, Hank."

He nodded, about to slide into the pilot's chair, but a sound behind them had them turn. The hatch above the captain's bunk had opened, and River climbed out, followed a moment later by Ethan, still clutching his stuffed alligator. He looked up at her, and she nodded. Hesitantly at first, then picking up speed until he almost fell down the steps into the galley, he ran to his mother, skidding to a halt in front of her.

"Mama?"

She dragged her eyes unwillingly from the coat on the table, looking at him as if she didn't know who he was at first, then recognition bloomed in her eyes, and she leaned forward, lifting him onto her lap. He wrapped his arms around her, tangling his hands in her shirt, his little chest heaving with sobs as his tears soaked into her clothes.

"Mama!" he whispered, and all the pain he was feeling reflected back to her, filling her mind.

"It's okay, Ethan," she murmured, holding him close. "It'll be okay."

"Daddy …"

_I know_. She couldn't speak, couldn't do anything but hold him as she stared at the leather coat over his shoulder. It was so stiff, unyielding. So empty …

-

He'd had a coat. He was sure of that. But it had snagged on something, tried to drag him down, and he'd … he thought he remembered pulling his arms out of it, but maybe that was a dream.

He wished the pain was a dream. His head hurt, but the worst was the biting agony in his belly. He managed to turn over and tried to find out what … oh, no. Not going to do that again. He'd screamed as his fingers explored the hole, the blood still oozing thickly from it, and he almost blacked out again. The pain in his hand and head was almost secondary.

"Mister?"

A voice. A voice pulling him back to the cold and the …

"Mister? You dead?"

Another, different this time, but still …

"Ma ... Ma!"

He managed to force open his eyes, seeing a face swim into view.

"You lie still." The words were there in his brain, so he must have heard them, but he didn't know what they meant. "Jonah, go get the cart."

"Yes, Ma."

"He gonna be alright?"

"I don't know. Not sure he ain't dead."

"He ain't, Ma. Saw his chest move."

"Well, he will be if we don't get him into the house and warm him over."

He wanted to tell them to leave him be. Moving would be worse than just lying here, and he just wanted to go back to sleep. Easier. He tried to speak, to …

"Lie still, mister. Else you'll tear yourself open, and then nothing on God's earth is gonna save you."

_God? Since when did He ever do anything right?_ He drifted into the darkness.


	3. Chapter 3

"I'm sorry to hear that," Barrick said, nervously looking around off screen. They'd suggested he come to the ship but he refused, and found his normal reluctance to talk over a wave working against him this time. "But the deal was made, and half the money paid. If that's gone -"

"No, we have the money," Zoe said firmly. "I just need the details."

"Look, I don't like to discuss business over an open link –"

"Then send the co-ordinates."

Barrick paused, then nodded. "Fine. I'll get someone to do that straight away." He leaned forward slightly. "He's not the first, you know."

"What?" Zoe stiffened.

"Mal. There's been at least five that I know of. People getting killed in the dark, all their valuables taken off them."

"But the sheriff didn't mention -"

"The law around here ain't worth much," Barrick said, then glanced guiltily over his shoulder as if someone might have been eavesdropping. "Folks don't generally go to him. They take care of matters themselves."

"I'll bear that in mind."

Barrick nodded, all business again. "You sure you're gonna be able to get the job done?"

"We'll get it done."

"Good. And … well, good." He switched off at his end.

There was a slight beep and Hank leaned forward. "Info's here," he said softly.

"Yes," she responded, but she wasn't really listening.

"What is it?" he asked. "What's going on in that brain of yours?"

-

In the galley the others were talking, sitting around the table, notable for its lack of Freya.

"She ain't gone into their bunk," Kaylee said, her eyes still red from crying.

"I know," Simon said, Bethany asleep in his lap. "I had to threaten her with a sedative even to lie down, but she's in one of the passenger rooms."

"Ethan and Jesse are with her," River put in, her hair hanging down around her face as if she was trying to hide. "They're asleep."

"That's good."

"They're exhausted."

"I'll keep an eye on them," Simon promised.

Jayne moved a little in his seat. "We're gonna get paid for this job, right? I mean, we got half already, right?"

Kaylee glared at him. "How can you talk like that at a time like this?" she demanded, never having felt such revulsion for him before.

"That ain't what I mean," he growled, flushing a little. "I was thinking of a reward."

"What?" Simon sat forward.

"You mean if anyone finds him?" Kaylee asked, ashamed at her previous reaction.

"Yeah. And maybe who did it."

"You think we could?"

"Don't see why not. Post it someplace central, sheriff's office maybe -"

"No," Zoe said as she stepped down into the dining area, Hank behind her. "No point."

"What? Why?" Jayne stared at her. "If'n it helps Frey –"

"I didn't mean that. But Barrick says no-one talks to the sheriff, not even to report other murders like this one."

The big man stiffened. "There've been others?"

"At least six now."

"So what do we do?" Simon asked.

Zoe looked at Jayne. "You willing to stay behind? Could be a couple of weeks. Barrick gave us the co-ordinates, and the drop's on Hammond."

"Coupla …" He glanced at River. "I don't –"

"Stay," River said quietly, nodding slowly.

"You sure? You won't need me for the baby?"

She put her hand on the mound at her belly. Not yet four months pregnant and she was showing already on her slight frame. "We won't," she said. "And I promise not to give birth until you're back."

Jayne smiled briefly at her then turned back to Zoe. "What do you want me to do?"

"Find out who did this."

"Reward?"

"If you need to. But someone knows. And you're going to find out for Frey."

"You think it'll help her?" Kaylee wanted to know.

"It will if you let her kill him," River said, her eyes deadly serious.

Kaylee shivered at her tone. "I … right."

"And if someone comes up with Mal's body?" Jayne asked.

"Then you keep it on ice 'til we get back. And we can have a proper funeral for him."

"Prometheus?" Kaylee whispered, a tear running down her cheek again. Simon cuddled her.

"Only right," River murmured. "Closure."

Zoe pulled a wad of notes from her pocket. "We have to leave now if we're going to get to the pick-up point in time," she said briskly. "Take this. If you need more let me know."

"I got some," Jayne said, pushing the money into his pants.

Kaylee stood up quickly. "I want to contribute." She ran off towards the stairs.

"Me too," Hank said, reaching into his own pocket and pulling out some cash. "Might as well."

"Thanks." Jayne added it to the rest.

"I'll go and pack for you," River added softly, getting to her feet. "Help me?" she asked, looking at him.

He nodded and took her hand, walking out together.

"You think he can catch this man?" Simon asked quietly.

Zoe shrugged. "If anyone has a chance, it's Jayne."

-

Moments. Moments of clarity amongst the sea of darkness. Moments he wished he hadn't had. Someone pulling him through the snow. Being lifted onto … something, and screaming. So much screaming. Then something in his belly, digging, and he screamed more, begging them to stop, to let him die in peace. A hand on his forehead, something cool laid against his skin. A voice, a woman, calming, soothing, singing an old lullaby he thought he recognised …

"Where am I?"

"In my bed." She sounded … nice.

"What? No, I can't …" He tried to move but pain lanced through him.

"Lay still. It's been a while since I practised sewing anyone up, and I'd rather you didn't waste all my good work."

"You helped me?"

"Surely did."

"Why?"

"You needed it."

"I …" He screwed up his forehead, and he tried to focus better. "What happened to me?"

"You got shot. Don't know where, or what you were doing to get that way, but we found you on the beach."

"We?"

"Me and my two young'uns."

"You saved my life?"

"Guess so."

"Thanks." He shivered violently.

"Cold?"

"Bit."

She lifted the covers and climbed in next to him, sharing her body's warmth with him. "Better?"

He lay stiffly. "Some."

She laughed. "I ain't gonna ravish you. You ain't my type for one thing, and for another my kids are asleep in the next room, so if you start shouting they'll hear."

He smiled a little, forcing himself to relax. "Sorry."

"S'okay. Strange woman climbs into bed with you, I'm sure you wouldn't know what to think. Less it happens a lot?"

"I don't know."

"What?"

"I don't know. I don't remember."

"Hmmn." She put her arm over him, carefully avoiding the bandage around his belly, the splint on his hand. "So what's your name?"

He forced his eyes open. "My name?"

"You got one, ain't you? Most people have."

"Sure. It's …" His forehead creased. "It's … I know it. I'm sure I …"

"Don't worry. It'll come." She looked into his face, his blue eyes confused, almost frightened. "It'll come," she repeated.

"Sure." He shook his head, but his eyes were closing, and in a moment he was asleep.

-

When he woke again he was aware of a body next to him, but something felt wrong. Not the right body, maybe. He reached out, touched whoever it was on the shoulder, but the movement made him groan with the pain.

"Shh, shh, don't try and move."

Not a voice he recognised. "Don't think I'll try again." A face swam into view through the red-tinged darkness. Didn't know that either.

"You remember where you are?"

"I … no, not really."

"Do you remember _who_ you are?"

"I …"

"Don't worry. You're safe. And you'll heal."

"Heal?"

"Just go back to sleep. Nothing's going to hurt you here."

-

Jayne watched Serenity take off, the snow blowing around him from its thrusters, River's words to him echoing through his mind.

She'd been pushing his spare pants into a bag as he packed several of his guns. "Try not to kill him if you don't have to."

"I'll try. And you keep an eye on Frey."

"I'll try." She sat down suddenly on the bed, her arms wrapped around her belly.

"Riv?" He was immediately at her side, on his knees, his blue eyes worried. "You need your bro?"

"No. It's just …" She looked at him, and a tear rolled down her cheek. "I can feel her, Jayne. Every thought, every pinprick, every hammer blow against her, and it hurts. So much."

"Frey?"

River nodded. "I want to be here to help her, to make her understand she isn't alone, but I don't think I can."

He put his hand on her swelling stomach. "Is it putting the kid in danger?"

"I think it might," she admitted.

"Well, you can't stay with me, however much I want you to. This place don't have a decent doctor that don't treat horses too, and Simon can't stay because of Frey."

"I could help you … see who's lying."

He smiled a little. "That gonna work? With the static you're feeling?"

"Well …"

He stood up and pulled her into his arms. "I figure maybe Lazarus is our best bet. Tell Zoe to get you there. And Sam can talk to Frey at the same time."

"How long for?" she asked, her voice muffled against his chest.

"Long as it takes. I ain't letting anything hurt you."

"Too late …" she whispered. "Father …"

He knew she wasn't talking about Gabriel Tam. "I know, moonbrain." He hugged her tightly. "I know."

And now Serenity was just a dot in the sky that vanished even as he watched. Taking a deep breath and blowing it out through his mouth, he turned back towards the town. A man was striding by, bundled up in a heavy coat, and Jayne caught his arm.

"Mister –"

The man looked at him with fear on his face, shrinking away. "What …"

Jayne eyed him with disgust. "Ain't gonna hurt ya. Just want to know where's the closest hotel? Or place I can find a room?"

The man looked him up and down. "Francine's. Decent kind of place, and her whores are clean."

"Don't want a woman. Just a bed."

"She'll let you sleep there, if that's all you want. And only hotel we had burned down during the fall. Ain't been rebuilt yet."

"So where is this Francine's?"

"Main street. Next to the sheriff's office."

"Yeah?" Jayne grinned humourlessly. "Thanks."

-

"How're you feeling?"

He opened his eyes. "What? Who –"

"Shh. It's okay."

He tried to move, but the sudden agony in his chest had him gasping for air. "Oh …"

"Here, drink this." It was a woman, somewhat familiar, sitting next to him. She held a cup to his lips. "Drink. It will help." He sipped at the warm liquid, bitter tasting but almost welcome to his parched mouth. "Good, good. As much as you can." She held the cup until it was empty. "Good."

"Thank you," he managed to say.

She put the cup onto the table behind her. "You'll start to feel the pain ease soon. I brewed up herbs, bark … it tastes terrible but it does work."

"Thank you," he said again. "Who are you?"

"I've already told you once, but I seem to be very forgettable." She smiled. "My name is Hannah. Hannah Tebril."

"Hannah." He smiled a little. "Nice to meet you." He managed to look around the room without killing himself, finding it filled with odd pieces of furniture and books. "How did I get here?"

"We took you out of the river, patched you up. Someone had shot you." She put her hand on his arm. "Don't you remember? You came to several times."

"Did I?" His brow furrowed. "I don't …" Something she'd said registered. "We?"

"My children and me."

"And I was shot?"

She nodded. "Do you remember?"

"No. Only pain." He took a slightly deeper breath. "Which is easing, you were right."

"I still remember a few tricks," she said, smiling, her face taking on an aspect of youth he hadn't envisaged.

"Good tricks."

"My husband was a good teacher."

He felt his eyes beginning to close. "Sleepy."

"Yes, that's the drawback of that potion. It does tend to knock you out. But rest is the best thing for you right now." She patted his arm. "Get some sleep. We can talk later."

"Talk later," he repeated, drifting off. "Later."


	4. Chapter 4

"A room?" Francine, a somewhat blousy, smallish woman in her mid-forties, looked the big man in front of her up and down, and apparently liked what she saw. She smiled, the thick make-up on her face threatening to crack. "Sure, we can do you that. You wanting company too?"

"No. Just the room." Jayne looked around at the whores in various states of undress, some already plying customers with alcohol, others sitting around waiting for business.

"You sly? 'Cause there's a coupla boys I know wouldn't mind showing you a trick or –"

"Not sly. Got me a woman of my own." He shifted the bag on his shoulder slightly.

"She with you?"

"Nope."

"Then she won't know." Francine patted his arm.

"She'd know. And much as your girls look good and clean, I don't do that kinda thing no more."

She laughed. "No more? Figured as much. You used to though, didn't you?"

He grinned at her. "I did. Kept more'n one in business, all the coin I used to spend. And I'd'a used your place if'n I'd known it was here. But right now I just need somewhere to put my stuff that ain't gonna get robbed, and a bed to fall into when I can't stay awake no longer."

"Then you can have number 15, on the top floor. Got a good lock on the door, and the bed ain't been beaten into submission too often."

"Sounds shiny."

"So what's your name?"

"Cobb. Jayne Cobb."

"Interesting. There a story behind it?"

"If there is, I don't know it."

She held out a hand, and the young man behind the counter put a key into her fingers. "Well, if you'd care to make one up you can join me for a drink later."

"Miss Francine, that'd be my pleasure." He grinned wider – even if he wasn't partaking of the pretties on display, didn't mean he couldn't be friendly. He hefted his bag of weaponry a little higher, and the sweet smell of gunoil filtered out.

The whorehouse Madam noticed and her eyes narrowed a little. "By the by, you here on business?"

"Could say that."

"Mind if I ask what kind?" She tapped the key on her chin. "Only if it ain't legal, the sheriff's next door."

"Yeah, saw that." He looked down into her eyes, some distance below him. "Odd place for a whorehouse."

"Not really. He's part owner."

Now Jayne growled a laugh. "And he likes to keep an eye on things?"

"Surely does." She poked him gently with her forefinger. "And you ain't answered. Legal or no?"

"Depends."

"That ain't an answer."

"Looking for someone. That ain't illegal. But what I do with him after I've found him might be."

"He hurt you?"

"Not me. Friend of mine."

"So you're after revenge."

"Kinda."

Francine eyed him shrewdly. "You likely to be making a ruckus in my house?"

"No, ma'am."

"Good. 'Cause we deal with things like that ourselves, and we don't take kindly to folks who bust up the place." It was more of a promise than a warning.

"Ain't planning on it."

"Fine." She stood up straight, still not even reaching his shoulder. "Come on, then. Let's get you settled in."

-

He woke up, but lay still, his eyes closed. Memories of pain when he moved kept him from trying again, apart from the ache in his head, so he just listened. There was someone else in the room, that he was sure of. More than just a single someone, too.

"I think he's awake." A child's voice, a boy.

"No he ain't." This time a girl, not too old, either. "'Cause his eyes is closed."

"Breathing's different. And he moved a bit." The sound of a door opening was followed by a chill draught across his face. "Ma!" the boy shouted. "He's awake!"

After a moment the draught stopped and the door slammed closed.

"You sure?" A woman's voice.

"Pretty much."

He opened his eyes. "Hate people talking about me when I ain't able to answer," he muttered, his voice sounding croaky even to his own ears.

A woman came into view, long brown hair caught up in the nape of her neck in a low bun, a heavy overcoat covering her dress, dusted with snowflakes that were rapidly melting.

"Hey, there." She smiled down at him, touching his forehead. "How're you feeling?"

"Not sure. Am I dead?"

"Don't think so. 'Less I'm an angel, and there'd be arguments over that." The bed moved slightly as she sat down. "My name's Hannah. Do you remember?"

"Hannah. Yeah, I think …" His eyes widened. "Did you sleep with me?"

Now she laughed. "Kept you warm, that was all. I don't think anything more would have been on the agenda. But a body next to you is the best way to beat the cold."

"Then … thanks. And yes, I do remember you." A name surfaced from the grey sludge in his mind. "Hannah Tebril, wasn't it?"

"That's me." She glanced over her shoulder. "And those are my children. Jonah and Rachel."

He lifted his head enough to see a boy of about eight and a girl, probably no more than six, the latter hiding a little behind her brother. "Hi," he said, trying out a smile.

"Hi." Jonah nodded, but Rachel didn't speak.

"Come on, Rachel," her mother said. "He ain't gonna bite."

The little girl hid even more.

"It's okay," he said, laying his head back. "Hard enough seeing a strange man in your Momma's bed, I guess."

"You sound like you have kids."

He tried to remember but it was like a fog was sitting just this side of his memory. Like cotton-candy, he heard a voice almost say… but it vanished as he tried to pull it forward. "I don't know," he admitted, his forehead screwing up.

"It'll come back," Hannah assured him. "Now, feeling hungry? We've got some soup on the go."

He pondered for a moment, thinking past the ache in his chest to an emptiness in the region of his belly. "I think maybe I am."

Hannah smiled. "Good." She stood up and walked to the stove, shucking off her coat as she went.

"I'm sorry," he said softly. "I musta made a helluva racket with my screaming."

"You didn't," she assured him, spooning soup into a bowl. "Not one sound, the whole time since we found you."

"But I remember …"

"We thought you were dead a couple of times, you were so quiet."

"Could've sworn …" There were screams in the night, he was sure of it.

She came back, pulling a chair closer to the bed to sit on. "Not a peep. Not even while I was digging in your belly for the bullet."

He winced at the thought. "You do that a lot?"

"I used to be a nurse. Not trained, a'course, but my husband was the doctor in town. He showed me a lot so I could help him out, and I assisted at any number of bullet removals. Amazing how folks keep getting shot around here."

He smiled shakily. "I guess."

"So I knew what I was doing. Don't want you to think just anyone went rummaging around your insides."

"I'm grateful."

"And I dosed you up with some of the stuff I had left. Should heal well, and fast too. Didn't have no painkillers left, though, so that's why I had to wait 'til it got light to get the bark I needed." She half turned. "Rachel, get me a cloth."

"Yes, Ma." The little girl ran to a box by the fire, and came back holding a ragged piece of gingham. She gave the man in the bed a shy smile, then hurried back to her brother.

"Time for you to eat," Hannah instructed. "Then we'll talk some more."

"Can't we do both at the same time?"

She laughed. "You think you can?"

"Try me."

"Okay. Only since you don't know who you are, I figure I'll be the one doing all the talking." She lifted a spoonful of broth and put it to his lips. "And the feeding."

He swallowed it, feeling the welcome warmth spread through him. "Don't mind that."

"But I need to be able to call you something." She fed him another spoonful and thought for a moment. "How about Ben?"

He considered it. Somehow it sounded familiar, but there was … "I don't know."

"It was my husband's name. Just thought it'd be easy to remember. Rather than just saying 'hey you'."

"I think I'd probably answer to that too." He smiled again, and her heart missed a beat. It had been an age since anyone smiled like that at her.

She quickly fed him more soup, using the rag to clean his chin where it ran down a little. "You know, someone must be looking for you," she said, concentrating on her task. "Only we've not got a Cortex link here, and the snow the last coupla nights blocked the only track into town. It'll be a while before we can let the sheriff know we found you."

"I guess."

"I mean, man like you ain't likely to be travelling alone." She was very carefully not looking into his eyes.

"A man like me?"

"Good looking. Sure to have a whole bevy of young women chasing you."

He laughed, even though it hurt. "I doubt it."

She glared at him, pulling the spoon back. "You seen yourself lately?"

"No."

She closed her mouth. "No, of course you haven't." She put the bowl on the small nightstand and got to her feet, hurrying to the sideboard and pulling a hand mirror from the drawer. "Here."

He lifted a hand but winced. "Uh …"

"Oh, sorry." Sitting down on the edge of the bed she held it for him. "Just tell me when I've got it in the right place."

"Down a little, no, too much, left … hold it." He stared at the face in the glass. Brown hair, somewhat greasy from all the sweating he'd been doing, but it looked thick, despite the bandage wrapped around his head. An old scar sat above his left eyebrow (sounds of heavy weapons fire seemed to reverberate through his skull for a moment, but were gone before he could get hold of them), and a somewhat largish nose. A strong chin, too, with more than a hint of beard growing, and mobile lips. And blue eyes. Very blue eyes, with long eyelashes. He blinked, and his reflection blinked back at him. "You think this is good looking?" he asked.

She blushed slightly and stood up, putting the mirror away again. "Maybe a little cleaner. And shaved."

He would have chuckled, but it hurt too much. "Might be a better picture."

"But first you finish your soup," she ordered, sitting down again and picking up the bowl.

"Yes, ma'am."

-

Jayne walked back into the saloon he and Mal had frequented, and wondered at how it seemed like half a lifetime ago, not just a day. The place looked the same, smelled the same, and even the people drinking didn't seem to have moved, yet somehow it should've been different. Shaking himself mentally, he went up to the bar.

"Beer," he ordered.

"Coming up." The barkeep pulled a frothing mug and set it down on the wooden counter. "You paying now, or running a tab?"

"Depends."

"On what?"

"What information you can give me."

"You the law?"

Jayne glanced down at his camo jacket. "Do I look like it?"

"Well, no, but –"

"I was here yesterday, with a pal of mine. Tall, brown hair."

"Mister, there's a lot of men come in here, and half of 'em are tall with brown hair." He picked up a glass and started to polish it in the action of barkeeps the 'verse over.

"He wore a gun strapped to his hip, and a long brown coat."

The barkeep paused. "Drank sake."

"Wouldn't know." He hesitated, suddenly remembering the clear liquid in the Captain's glass.

"Only there was a feller in here sounds like that, and there was nearly trouble."

Jayne sighed. "Yeah, sounds like him."

"Someone was making a nuisance of himself with one of the girls, and your pal stopped him. Thought there was gonna be gunplay, but it didn't fall to that."

"So what did happen?"

"Nothing. The guy walked out, your pal finished his drink and left."

Jayne's imagination filled in the rest, mainly with an ambush of sorts. Mal'd never let himself be taken any other way. "You know who he was? The guy making the hassle."

"Nope. Seen him around a coupla times, but never got to hear his name. Lily seemed to know him better, though."

"Lily?"

"The girl."

"She around?"

"Ain't seen her since. Heard one of the other girls say she'd gone home for a spell, but it's just as likely she's taken off with a guy for a bit of private play, if you know what I mean."

Jayne nodded. "Yeah, figure I do. She gonna be back?"

"Probably. When the money runs out. She usually is."

"What did the other guy look like? The troublemaker."

The barkeep shrugged. "Just a guy. Middling height, dark hair, kinda angry looking."

"Lots of 'em about."

"Surely are." The man's attention was caught by someone at the other end of the counter wanting a refill, and he walked away.

Jayne lifted his mug and drained half the bitter liquid, feeling it slide down his throat. Turning, he looked out at the bar, at the tables where card games were being played, at the girls who were hanging draped around various patrons' shoulders, and figured there was time. Time to find out who'd done it. Time to get that revenge for Freya.


	5. Chapter 5

"Lazarus?" Freya shook her head as she finished making the bed. Not that she'd slept at all in the past three nights. Every time she closed her eyes she couldn't help but see Mal slipping away from her into a cold, wet darkness, and she woke biting back on a scream. "Why would we want to go there?"

"River wants it," Zoe explained, standing in the doorway. "More, I think she needs it."

"Why?"

Zoe took a deep breath. "Frey, losing Mal like this, it's … she's finding it hard."

"_She's_ finding it hard?" There was a sudden sharpness in her tone.

Zoe didn't let it stop her. "There's a lot of grief on board, and in her current state, she's feeling everything."

"She didn't lose a husband." Freya spoke quietly, but the sharpness had turned hard as stone.

"No. But I did. And I know how you feel."

"Do you?" Freya turned on her. "You got to bury yours! I can't!"

They were almost toe to toe. "And I didn't move fast enough to save him," Zoe said softly, seeing the stake coming through the bridge window again. "All the time I thought it was going to be me dying first, not coming back from a job, and he just sat there and I couldn't save him."

"I couldn't try!"

Zoe waited, wanted the tears to start, to see the pain of admitting he was never coming back break her down, but Freya didn't give in. Instead there was only anger at herself, at everyone else. "No, you couldn't. None of us could."

The heat drained out of her and she blinked. "You think it'll help River?"

"Yes. And Sam's still there. He'll talk to her. Talk to any of us that need it." The implication was clear.

"Then …" Freya nodded, backing down. "I guess Lazarus. But we drop River and go, _dong mah_?"

"_Dang rahn_." She wasn't surprised at Freya's refusal to even consider talking to Sam, and turned to leave.

"Zoe."

"Yes?"

"Would you … could you get my stuff from … I need a few things and I'm a trifle busy at the moment." She motioned at the perfectly tidy room.

Zoe looked at her, seeing the thin veneer hiding the crumbling interior. "I'll ask Kaylee to bring up whatever you need."

"Thanks."

"But you should –"

"Thanks."

It felt like she'd been dismissed. She left the room, heading up the stairs towards the bridge, her grief for the loss of her Captain multiplied by what was happening to her friend.

"After Beylix I can lay in a course for Hammond that'll take us by Lazarus," Hank said as she crossed the threshold. "That is, if Frey says we can." He knew it sounded odd, waiting on Freya to make the decision, but he didn't know what else to do.

"She does."

He looked up at her. "You okay?"

"I'm fine. Frey, on the other hand …"

"She's just lost a husband, Zoe."

"I know. And I want to tell her how it feels, that the pain does eventually ease, that you can think about him without it feeling like a Reaver's chomping on you …"

"She's not listening, huh?"

"Not to one word. And it don't help that I feel pretty much the same way."

"Honey …" He knew Mal was … had been her best friend. They all did.

"She won't even go down into their bunk to get her stuff."

"You want me to?" He half stood up out of the chair. "Whatever it is, I can –"

"No. Kaylee's going to do it. You probably wouldn't take the right things."

"You mean because I'm a man?" His lips lifted a little. "I'm considering taking that as a slander on all my sex."

"So you'd know what kind of underthings she needs?"

"Might." He shrugged. "Be fun looking." He managed to look guilty. "I mean, trying to figure out what she wanted."

"I know what you meant." She sighed, then leaned down and put a kiss on his cheek. "Don't change," she whispered, wanting to say _don't die_.

"Don't intend to." He put his arms around her waist, pulling her into his lap. "You … you still think about Wash?"

For a moment she didn't speak, then nodded slowly. "The memories kinda creep up on me sometimes. Like I see someone in a loud shirt, and I go to call his name, and then I remember he ain't around no more. Can't be him."

His grip tightened on her a little. "I know what you mean. I hear a laugh, and it sounds so like Risa. Or something happens and I remember her railing at me over something, or there's a joke someone tells that she'd have made some comment on …" He looked into her eyes. "That make us bad people? I mean, I love you with all my heart, so shouldn't I not be thinking about her?"

"Hank, she was your wife. Wash was my husband. They're always a part of us. But we've moved on."

"Freya's gonna have it hard," Hank said unhappily. "It's so difficult realising you're never gonna see them smile at you, or shout because you've done something crazy, or feel their hand on your face …"

Zoe ran her fingers down his cheek. "We're here for her. And for each other."

"Yeah." He sighed. "Just not sure that's gonna be enough."

-

For five days she wouldn't let him get out of bed, saying it was likely to bust open her careful stitches, until he was almost arguing with her.

"Hannah, even _I_ can smell me!" he insisted, sitting up with his back propped against the headboard.

She stood in front of him, her arms crossed. "So? You think you can bathe? 'Cause I'm not sure we're gonna be even able to get you to the bathroom, let alone in the bath."

Bath. Hot water out of taps shaped like … Again the memory vanished through his fingers like smoke, and he groaned.

Immediately her hand was on his forehead, cool and calming, checking for fever. "You okay?"

"I just … there's things, words, and I keep thinking I remember, but it …" He was angry, but only at his own shortcomings.

"Then don't try."

He looked up at her sharply. "Don't?"

"I only mean the more you push it, the longer it'll take. You got hurt in your head – and you're damn lucky the bullet didn't take out part of your brain. But if you try to force it, the harder it'll get. And the more frustrating." She smiled. "You'll see. There'll be one thing and suddenly it'll all come flooding back."

"You think?" He took a deep breath, pushing the tension away, even as his chest reminded him he'd been shot.

She saw his face pale, and felt guilty. "It's okay," she added softly. "It will … you'll remember."

"And you won't be too be pleased about that, will you?" he joked.

His astuteness surprised her, and she blushed. "I don't know what you mean."

He smiled a little. "Sure. Obviously I'm still delirious."

She allowed her lips to lift. "Obviously. But that still doesn't mean you get to take a bath."

"Hannah –"

"You ain't even able to relieve yourself standing up yet."

This time it was his turn to blush. Just remembering the awkwardness of trying to pee into a receptacle hidden under the blanket was enough to make a Companion blanch. "That ain't happening again."

Now she laughed. "Ben, I've had two kids. Helped my husband through some pretty gruesome procedures, including amputating a leg or two. A little urine don't worry me."

"It worries me." He shifted somewhat uncomfortably.

"But maybe I can see a way around this problem of yours." She bit her lip lightly. "How about a bed bath?" She saw his eyes lose focus in the way she'd already come to dread as a memory skirted around his mind again.

Then he looked up at her, consciously not pursuing it. "Sounds interesting." He grinned.

-

Serenity landed in her usual spot, and as the doors opened and the ramp dropped, Inara was waiting for them in the afternoon sunshine. Carefully made up, it would have been impossible for anyone who didn't know her to see she'd been crying. Trouble was, everyone on that boat was her friend.

"'Nara." Zoe strode along the path, going straight up to her and hugging her.

It almost undid her, and she had to swallow the hard lump in her throat before she could speak. "Zoe. How's … everyone?"

"About how you'd expect." The first mate stood back. "She's hardly spoken about him."

"That's what we were afraid of." Inara glanced back over her shoulder at Sam coming out of the house, a bag in his hand.

"You throwing him out?" Zoe asked, surprised.

"No. But he's coming with you."

Sam Nazir smiled a little at Zoe as he came up to the two women. "If that's okay with you."

"You think you can get her to talk?"

"I can try."

"I think it's like trying to empty an ocean with a sieve, but you're more than welcome. Your old room's available."

"Thank you." He turned to Inara. "If you need me, wave."

"I will." She reached up and kissed him tenderly, feeling the ache of his leaving warring in her chest with the pain of Mal dying. "I'd come too, but I think seeing me might make it that much worse."

"I conjure it might," Zoe added.

"I'll do my best for her," Sam assured them both.

"I think it's a good idea," River said, appearing next to them, still so light on her feet despite her increasing girth that nobody heard her arrive. "But she won't come out." Putting her small case down, she sighed. "I think she knows what you're planning."

"Is she peeking?" Zoe asked.

"No. Her walls are very tight, and I can't get through. And she can't look out. All I can feel is her pain, washing through me until it burns in the night."

"River …" Inara spoke warningly as the young woman shuddered.

Sam put his hand on her arm. "Darling, if I hadn't worked out by now that River is psychic too, I wouldn't be any good at my job."

She looked up and him, into his almond eyes. "I'm sorry. That was tactless of me."

"No. Understandable." He kissed her again, then stood straight and looked at Serenity's first mate. "I suppose we're in a hurry?"

Zoe almost smiled. "Got a delivery on Hammond in less than two weeks, and that moon's the other side of the sector. We'll be pushing it as it is."

"Then it's time to go." He pulled Inara to his chest one last time, then let her go. "I'll be back soon, my beloved."

She touched his face. "Help her."

"I'll try."

Zoe looked at River. "You gonna be okay here?"

"It will be easier." She put her hands on her belly. "Maybe the static will drown out the pain now, with distance."

"Well, the girls have some things planned," Inara put in. "Baby showers, that sort of thing."

"Does a baby need one?" River tilted her head. "Aren't they clean anyway?"

"On that note, it really is time to go." Zoe smiled. "See you soon, I hope."

Inara nodded. "So do I. And if Jayne needs any more money, let me know."

"I will."

"She's afraid," River whispered as they watched Sam and Zoe stride away back to Serenity.

"Who, Zoe?" Inara asked.

"Frey."

"Of what, sweetie?"

"She won't let anyone in because she's afraid she'll take them down with her."

Inara looked at the young woman sharply. "Take them … I don't understand."

"The darkness. It's still there. Always has been, but Mal was the light that kept it at bay. Now he's gone …" Her voice caught. "She's afraid of it overwhelming her again."

"Then Sam's doing the right thing. Going with them."

"She won't listen."

"He's pretty tenacious when he wants to be."

"Really?" River lifted her face. "Explain. With pictures."

For the first time in what seemed a lifetime, Inara laughed.

-

She'd been as gentle as she could be, but by the time she finished he was sweating again.

"Knew this was a bad idea," she murmured, drying his fingers, carefully avoiding the splint.

"No, it's shiny," he said, laying back on the pillow, trying to sound positive, but feeling like a landed fish, puffing and drowning in the good, clean air.

"Trouble is, I need to check your wound. Can you stand for that right now?"

He waved his hand. "Sure. Kill me, why don't you?"

"Baby."

"Least I ain't wearing a diaper."

She smiled, letting his inexplicable good temper warm her through. Moving the sheet away, she undid the bandage and peeled back the dressing on his chest. "Sorry," she added as he hissed.

"So tell me some more about your husband," he said, just for something to say as she touched the area around the wound, holding back the grunt of pain.

"He died. Sickness."

"You said."

"What else is there to know?"

"Well, I know he was a doctor."

"Not just that."

"Oh?"

"He was a Shepherd, too."

"You married a preacher?" His eyebrows raised high.

"He wasn't when I married him, silly." She laughed, and he grinned. "He'd had a crisis of faith, and left the Abbey to walk the world. He came here. Met me. I don't think that helped his faith at all."

"Slept with him first date, huh?"

"Pretty much." She covered the wound back up, impressed at his fast healing. Rewrapping the bandage, she added, "And in eight months I found out I was pregnant."

"And he did the right thing."

"No. I wouldn't let him. I wasn't going to have a man who only wanted to marry me for the sake of the child."

"So what happened?"

"He dragged me in front of the local Judge and told him to make me marry him." She smiled indulgently. "I could've cheerfully killed him."

"But you agreed in the end."

"He said he wasn't going to go anywhere until I said yes. I had to, just to make him stop."

"But you loved him."

She nodded. "With all my heart."

He felt slightly embarrassed by the declaration, and wondered if he always felt this way when people talked about love. "So what was this crisis he talked about?" he asked, avoiding the subject.

Hannah looked down at her hands. "He never really said, but I know he was in the war. Ministered to a lot of fallen men, tried to save their lives and their souls, and it … it changed him."

"Which side?"

"He said it didn't matter. Alliance or Browncoat, they were all God's children."

"Browncoat …"

"That mean something to you?" Hannah asked, sitting forwards.

"I … I don't know," he admitted finally. "It's all so … damn frustrating. I can feel it, just out of reach, all those memories, the people I know, the places I've been, but every time I try to grab it I just …"

"It'll come back." She stood up, carrying the bowl and cloth to the sink.

"Yeah." He scratched at the beard on his chin. "Well, now I'm clean I guess I could shave."

"You gonna be able to without cutting your throat?" she asked, busying herself rinsing out the utensils.

Looking at his hand, he considered the possibility. "Not sure. Maybe I'll just stand back from the razor for a while."

She laughed. "Actually, truth is, I ain't got anything you can use. Ben had a beard, and nothing and nobody could persuade him to shave. He trimmed it once in a while, but all the days I knew him he had that fuzz on his face."

"What did he look like?"

She paused, her hands under the hot water. "I doubt you'd look at him twice in the street. Just a man. Not too tall, nor short, blondish hair, kinda mousy, I guess, but with dark eyes. Loved those eyes. Sometimes I wonder if they were what made me fall for him. Almost black." She shook herself. "But he was _suai_. Far as I was concerned. And he made me laugh, first time I ever met him."

"Sounds like quite a man."

"He was. I think you'd'a liked him."

"You know, I think I would." He smiled, feeling a warm kinship for this woman.

-

Jayne leaned against the bar, feeling like a permanent fixture. For days he'd wandered the town, talking to people, getting his face known. They were starting to accept him, but nobody was saying much. About the only new fact he'd got was that Mal hadn't even been number six on the list of people killed. It numbered nearer a dozen, but he was the first anyone had wanted to do something about. Someone had gone to all the trouble of targeting men who'd come from off world, and since their captains prob'ly figured they'd just jumped ship they hadn't looked too hard for them. At least, until the bodies had been found. If they were found at all.

He shifted his gunbelt more comfortably on his hips. Someone was making a tidy amount of money, he considered, and that was making Jayne itch.

He'd already come to the conclusion that he'd have to post that reward, and had left notice in the local general store, who promised to post it on the town Cortex, but he wasn't sure there was anything to be gained. And no body had come to light so far, either.

He sighed and threw the last of his beer down his neck.

"Another?" the barkeep asked.

Jayne half-turned. "Yeah, hell, why not?"

"Only I thought you'd wanna know that Lily's just come back."

Jayne straightened. "Where?"

"In her room. Making herself pretty."

Jayne slid a coin across the wooden counter. "Which one?"

The barkeep put his hand on it, making it disappear. "Down the back hall, last on the left."

"Thanks." The big man slid silently to the door, vanishing into the darkness.


	6. Chapter 6

Jayne made his way down the hall, stopping outside the door the barkeep had told him about. Inside he could hear someone singing to themselves, in quite a pleasant voice, something he remembered Kaylee had hummed for a few days before this all started.

Deciding to be a gentleman for a change, he knocked. After a moment the door opened, and a young woman peered out, apparently caught in the middle of painting her face ready for the evening.

"Yes?" she asked.

"You Lily?"

She smiled at him, looking him up and down. "Well, I ain't actually open for business yet, but I guess maybe for you I could make an exception."

He leaned on the doorjamb, and let his widest grin out. "So I can come in?"

She stood back. "Surely can."

Jayne sauntered over the threshold, then waited until she closed the door. "Thanks."

"So … what do you fancy? My rates, depend on what you're into and –"

"Talking."

She looked confused. "What?"

"I just want to talk."

She put her hands on her hips and stuck her breasts forward. "Why?"

"'Cause I need your help."

"Why didn't you say?" She sidled towards him, so close he could smell the cheap perfume she'd put behind her ears. "I can help you a lot."

He pushed her away. "Not with that. Ain't never needed help with that. No, this ain't sex, Lily. I need your help with something else."

She shrugged. "If I'm getting paid, I guess I'll try."

He pulled a couple of notes from his pocket and handed them over, watching idly as she stuffed them down her cleavage. "Few days back, before you took off, you were helped by a guy in the bar. Tall, blue eyes. Wore a –"

"Brown coat, yeah, I remember." She half-smiled. "He wasn't interested in me either."

"He wouldn't have been."

"Said he was married." She wrinkled her nose slightly then put her head on one side. "He in trouble?"

"He's dead."

She stood straighter. "Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. He stopped me getting a black eye or busted lip. Or worse."

"He was my friend."

"He seemed nice." She sighed. "What was it, an accident?"

"Only if you think getting murdered is accidental. Not half an hour after he helped you."

Lily's eyes went wide. "And you think … is that why you're here?" She backed up. "Look, I didn't have nothing to do with that."

He held up a hand. "Not saying you did. But the man he stopped hitting you … who is he?"

"You think it's him?"

"Pretty much. So what's his name?"

"Dyle. Mickey Dyle." She wrapped her arms around herself as if she was cold. "I knew him before I came here. Fact is, he's the reason I came. He got clingy, wanted me all to himself. Then I found he'd followed me here."

"He violent?" Jayne asked.

"Ain't everyone?" she countered.

"Most, I guess."

She was scrutinising him. "Are you gonna kill him?"

"I'd like to, but I think maybe we're gonna have a chat first. About why he picked Mal."

"Mal?"

"My friend. So I need you to tell me where he is."

"Mickey? Sure. I can tell you. In fact, I'll take you. _Hwoon dahn_ cracked one of my ribs a while back, and I'd like to see him get some payback." She chuckled. "But if I'm gonna turn him in, I need to powder my nose first." She stepped to another doorway. "Why don't you fix yourself a drink? Might make you more … friendly."

He smiled. "Lily, you're a sweet kid, but I ain't interested."

"Then give me ten secs to get myself together, and I'll take you to Mickey's. That _ga ni niang_ ain't gonna know what's hit him."

-

Kaylee sat with her back to her engine, and stared at the broken catalyser. She'd never admitted to the Captain that she'd kept it, all that time back, after he'd nearly gotten himself killed getting a new one, then fixing her girl for her, and all the while he was bleeding all over the place …

She sniffed, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. He'd've laughed, that was for sure, if he'd known she'd squirreled it away in one of her hidey-holes, just as a reminder of how much he loved his boat, was determined to do everything he could to keep her flyin'. There must've been a coupla dozen times over the years she'd seen it sitting there, and she knew she could've used the space for something else, but she always found something else to throw out. Something about it …

"Momma?" Bethany stepped down into the engine room.

Kaylee quickly mopped at her face again, then stood up from the corner where she'd wedged herself.

"What is it, honey?"

"Can't sleep." The little girl was hugging her Ethan doll, something she hadn't done in a while. "Hurts."

Her mother put the old catalyser carefully on the bench, then swung her daughter up into her arms. "Auntie Frey?"

Bethie nodded. "She's using Uncle Jayne's weights, but I can still …" She clamped her lips tight shut.

"It's okay, sweetie," Kaylee said quickly. "It ain't peekin'. Not now."

"She's trying to think of other things, but there's only Uncle Mal." A tear slid down her cheek, and Kaylee wiped it away, leaving a small grease mark. "I miss Uncle Mal, Momma."

"Oh, so do I." Kaylee moved over to her hammock, sitting down carefully. "We all do."

"Ethan doesn't understand." She glanced out of the door. "Doesn't know his Daddy ain't coming home. Not really. Doesn't want to believe it."

"If that's the case then none of us understand." Kaylee leaned back, keeping Bethany on her chest. "I keep thinking he's gonna shout any second, ask why I ain't got the EC set right, that it's too cold, or that the entry couplings have gone again and why aren't I working on 'em …" She swallowed hard. "I'd give almost anything to hear him angry with me again."

"Never got angry with you," Bethie said softly. "His _mei-mei_."

"Sure he did," Kaylee said. "Like there was this one time when I was trying to get this part, and it took longer than I expected, and he shouted at me for hours when I got back, just 'cause I hadn't told anyone where I was going."

"Not angry. Worried."

Kaylee looked down into her four-year old daughter's face, and wondered how she'd ever managed to produce a little girl so intelligent. "Guess. But I wanna worry him again."

Bethie put her head down and let the tears slip into the comforting roughness of her mother's coverall. "Miss him, Momma."

Down in the cargo bay, Freya fitted another weight to either end of the bar, then lay down on the bench. She was already soaked in sweat, her muscles aching, but she kept going. Anything rather than hear the thoughts of the crew, of their pity, of their own grief when she was fighting to stay sane …

-

Lily led Jayne through the streets to the far side of town, into an area close to the spacedock. The buildings were old, some of the original shanty that had built up to service the ships that landed, before the town proper had been built. Now they were little more than shacks, rented by the week or month, just another stopping place on the slippery slope towards the gutter.

"How do you know he's here?" Jayne asked.

"When he found me he told me he'd changed. Brought me here. Then he tried to take what he wanted without paying." Lily looked scathing. "I hit him with a bottle and ran. It was after that he came to the bar to see me, and your pal stopped him getting his own back." She stopped and pointed towards a small, single storey building, probably just one room. "There."

Jayne nodded. "You stay here."

"But I –"

"Stay."

"I ain't a dog," she complained, but hung back.

Jayne moved forward, his feet silent in the snow, until something caught at his nostrils. He could smell burned gunpowder, fresh on the cold air, only a few minutes old. Betsy was out of her holster and nestled in his hand in a moment, and he oozed along the side of the building until he could peer in through a window. The dirty curtain only half obscured the view, and his grip tightened. "_Tzao gao_," he murmured under his breath.

Looking around he continued on to the door, about to turn the knob when he realised it was open. Pushing it gently with his shoulder, he moved it out of his way and stepped inside.

Blood. He could smell it, even above the powder. And it was clear where it was coming from.

A man sat in the only armchair in the room, facing the door, his shirt off and his suspenders pulled back up over his dirty white vest. A handgun lay at his feet, and his brains were decorating the wall behind him.

"Mickey?" Lily stood in the doorway.

"I told you to stay back," Jayne said savagely.

"Is he …"

"Dead? Pretty much." Jayne walked forward, briefly checking to make sure no-one was hiding, but there was no place a man could be waiting in that small room. He approached the body, touching it lightly on the shoulder with one finger. Still warm, and the flesh was soft. "Recent, too." He glanced at her. "This him? Mickey Dyle?

"It … it is. He killed himself?" Lily couldn't stop staring.

"Looks like." Jayne went round the back of the chair, careful to avoid the blood and gore on the floor. "Blew the back of his head clean off. Must've eaten his gun."

"Why?"

"Who knows why anyone'd want to blow their brains out. Maybe he had a pang of conscience for all the men he's killed. Or he just got fed up with the cold." Jayne shrugged, as if he'd never felt that pang himself, and the cold was no reason to die.

"Mickey …"

"Yeah." Jayne started to turn out the few drawers, moving the mattress so he could look underneath.

"What … what are you doing?"

"Seeing if he's still got any of the stuff he took. Ain't been no mention of Mal's gun coming up, and I doubt it went into the river with him."

She looked at him, open-mouthed. "You gonna steal it?"

"Gonna give it back to his wife."

"Oh." She nodded. "But maybe it ain't here. Maybe he didn't have time to –"

"Lily, if you're gonna stand there arguing, don't. Just help me look."

She glared at him, but did as he asked. It took only a few minutes to prove there was nothing of value in the room at all. "He must've hidden it," Lily said softly, her eyes being dragged back to the body in the chair.

"Yeah." Jayne took a deep breath and exhaled noisily through his nose. "Come on. We need to get gone."

"You think someone heard the shot?"

"Probably, though in a place like this it won't be unusual. But I ain't gonna wait around to find out." He dragged her outside into the fresh, cold air. "You'd better get back home."

"Aren't you gonna tell the sheriff?"

"Nah. Even if no-one called him, someone'll figure out there's a body here eventually. And I don't wanna be answering questions for something I didn't do."

"I guess. But what about you?" She put her hand on his arm. "This is over now, isn't it? What're you going to do?"

Jayne glanced back into the room. "Not entirely sure." He looked back at her. "Go on. And don't tell no-one."

"I wasn't planning on it." She reached up and put a swift kiss on his cheek.

"What's that for?" he asked, surprised.

"Not taking advantage." She smiled then ran off.

He watched her go, a speculative look on his face. Something about this felt … wrong, but he didn't know what to do about it yet. Dyle hadn't known Jayne was on his track, so why'd he kill himself? And no sign anyways of the booty. Yeah, something wasn't right. And maybe he needed to think on things a little.

-

Freya could lift no more. Her arms hurt, and were shaking with the effort as she sat up, trying to take the top off the water bottle. In a flash of anger she threw it away from her, hearing it bounce on the floor and skitter amongst the crates they were to deliver in just a few days. Picking up the towel instead, she wiped her face, pushing it through her hair, attempting to wipe the pain out of her mind.

Except it wasn't going. Instead it had grown to fill her, the numbness around her heart like a cold lump of granite surrounded by the fire of grief. Sam had already tried several times to speak to her, and she'd been polite, but eventually she'd just got up and walked away. She knew, if she talked, if she said exactly how she felt, that numbness would vanish, and she'd burn up in the resulting conflagration. And if she did that, she didn't think she could stop taking them with her.

"Mama …"

She looked up. Ethan had come out of the common area, and was standing watching her, his blue eyes wide. He looked so like she imagined Mal had, and the jagged agony cut at her again. "You're supposed to be asleep," she said, as gently as she could.

"Are you staying here?" He twisted the head of his stuffed alligator.

She nodded slowly. "I think so."

"Daddy wouldn't like it."

She closed her eyes. "He's not here, Ethan."

"Still wouldn't."

"I know. But …" She couldn't speak, just sat with her head hanging between her shoulders.

"Want to help," Ethan said softly, walking up to her. "Make it better."

"You can't."

He reached out for her. "Mama, please."

She looked up. "He's not here, Ethan," she repeated, every word dragged from deep inside her.

"Mama …" His voice was full of sadness, and he was about to cry.

Freya stared at him, then held out her arms. He climbed onto her lap and snuggled deep into her embrace. She held him tightly, feeling his little heart beating against her chest, and without conscious decision her mind turned to his father.

She longed to be able to reach out and touch _him_, just run her mental fingers through his mind, past all the locked doors she never went through, to the place where he loved her. That shining, glowing area where she felt safe, secure, surrounded by his unfailing adoration. Her breath caught, and she hugged her son closer to her, even as her walls gave a little.

_Mal_.

It forced out of her mind, filled with the longing and the need and the pain and the loss and the total misery that stabbed through her. It rolled out of the ship, making Ethan whimper and Bethany sob, setting dissonance in all those intellects even a little psychic, giving nightmares and bad tempers to all those it touched. It made River, standing in the orchard on Lazarus in the warm sunshine, sink to her knees and hug herself, even as Inara asked her what was wrong.

And on Three Hills it touched a man sleeping fitfully, tossing on the dampened sheets as he dreamed of things he couldn't remember, of faces and voices that melted away into the cotton-candy fog, and he cried in his sleep.

Hannah lifted the blanket a little higher, tucking it around his shoulders, and waited for the morning.


	7. Chapter 7

"Here." Hannah held out a couple of crutches.

"For me?" He smiled. "You shouldn't've. Didn't know it was my birthday. But they ain't wrapped."

"Be like that and I'll take them away again."

"No, please, I love them." He chuckled. "Just what I always wanted."

"Well, you're healing quick, and I think a little light exercise won't be too bad for you. Just so long as you don't try leaping around quite yet."

He shook his head. "Never even considered it."

"No, course not."

They laughed together, easy in each other's company.

"So I'm being given the run of the place?" he asked, moving himself forward so his legs hung off the edge of the bed.

"There's not much of a place to run, but some fresh air might put some colour in your cheeks." She leaned forward, doing up the shirt she'd given him to wear. "But you have to keep warm. I've got one of Ben's old coats out for you – the sleeves might be a bit short, but it'll do."

He grinned at her. "And I'm grateful. You know that."

She blushed and turned away. "Well, a body has to be helpful." Going to the fire she picked up his boots. "Good job you didn't lose these in the river," she said, giving herself a moment by brushing imaginary dust off them. "Ben's would never've fit you. He had small feet. Almost dainty."

"Don't think that word's ever been used to describe me," he said, knowing exactly what she was doing. "So, you planning on hugging them to death, or do I get to put them on?"

Hannah glared at him. "I'll have you know it took me ages to get them soft. The leather had soaked up a load of water, and when they dried they were stiff as … well, I thought I might have to throw them out." She held them out. "I worked hard on these."

"And they look shiny." He glanced down at his stocking feet. "'Cept I'm thinking I need help getting them on."

She smiled. "That I can manage."

"Ben, come on!" Jonah shouted from the doorway. "We've built a snowman, but we need you to help finish him off!"

"I'm coming fast as I can." He sighed. This seemed awfully familiar too, like so many things he'd heard and seen, and felt, over the last weeks. But he'd given up chasing the thoughts, especially since that night. He'd woken up feeling like his guts were being pulled out of him, and it had made him cranky the whole of the next day. Not again. At least, not yet. He took a deep breath and looked at Hannah. "Well?"

The smile became a grin. "Yes, your lordship," she simpered, holding back the laugh in her throat, and went down on her knees to put his boots on.

-

Jayne was bored. Bored and no closer to figuring out what had gone wrong with Mickey Dyle. The man didn't seem to have any acquaintances, let alone friends, and no-one cared enough to be able to tell him anything. The only fact he knew was that Dyle was dead. Trouble was, the itch hadn't gone yet, and he knew, in those tracker senses he'd honed down the years, that this thing wasn't over yet.

Francine, the madam at the whorehouse, watched him playing Patience. He appeared to have all his concentration on the game, but as he'd missed the red six on the black seven, she figured that appearances could be quite deceptive. She sat down next to him.

"You look like a man with problems."

"Nope." He picked up the cards and pulled them back into a single stack, shuffling them over and over.

"Only that's about the fifth time you didn't wait to see if the game panned out."

"Just knew it wouldn't."

She studied him, the carefully clipped goatee, the short hair and the blue eyes, and the overwhelming impression of barely controlled violence. "You need some sexing."

He glanced up at her, then raised his eyebrows. "That your professional opinion?"

"It is."

He laughed. "Think you're right. But my woman's a long way from here, and doing it myself just ain't as satisfying."

"Be glad to help."

"Well, thanks, Francine, but I'll wait."

She sat back, crossing her arms to push her breasts even higher in their cages. "So why are you still here? Why ain't you gone back to that filly of yours?"

"Can't. My boat ain't headed back this way for another week or so, and … hell, Francine, I'm just bored."

"If you're that stuck for something to do I could -"

Jayne never found out what she was about to offer, as the door almost sprang off its hinges as it opened, and a huge man ducked inside. He almost blocked out the light, and Jayne's hand strayed close to his gun.

The man in the heavy coat peered through the gloom, searching the various faces looking round at him.

"What can I do for you?" Francine got to her feet. "Looking for company?"

"Looking for a man."

"Well –"

He didn't let her finish. "My cook. Damn fool got off the boat two days ago and no-one's seen him since."

Jayne sat up.

"What's his name?" Francine asked.

"Pi Tai." The man shook his head. "You'd know him if you'd seen him. Got a scar down his cheek." He ran his thumbnail down the left side of his face from eye to chin. "Reckons it was a knife fight, but I'm more sure it was just someone got tired of his whinging."

"Then why're you looking for him?"

"Got a long haul coming up, and he may be rotten at virtually everything else, but he's a damn fine cook. Makes that crud we have to eat almost taste palatable."

"Well, I'm sorry to say he ain't come through here. I see everyone before they go anywhere with my girls, and there's been no-one looking like that."

The man sighed. "Then someone else's gonna have to do the cooking. Can't wait for him." He wrapped his scarf tighter around his neck. "If'n you do see that sorry ass of a man, tell him he's forfeited his share of the last job, and not to expect to see me coming back." He turned in the doorway. "He wasn't _that_ good with a skillet." He strode out, the door banging in its frame behind him.

Francine shook her head. "Not surprised his cook jumped ship, captain like that."

Jayne just put the cards back on the table and stared at the door.

-

He had enjoyed himself. Even though he was aching and his knees felt like they were made out of jelly, the clean cold air had cleared his head a great deal. Watching the snowball fight that had developed between Hannah and her children had helped too, especially when he got in on the action from the chair they'd put out for him. His aim turned out to be pretty good, and it was only when they ganged up on him that he cried mercy.

"Hey, I'm injured here, remember?" he said, brushing snow out of his hair.

"That he is." Hannah looked down at him, her hands on her hips. "And it's getting cold. So everyone inside." She looked at her son. "Take Rachel in and get her warmed up. Dry socks'd probably be a good idea too."

"Yes, Ma." The boy took hold of his sister's hand and they ran indoors.

"You too." She smiled. "Go on in. I'll just get some more wood."

He grinned. "Can I help?"

"You able to swing an axe?"

"Uh, probably not."

"Then go inside and get warm yourself. If you want to do something, put the water on to heat. I fancy some tea."

"Earl Grey?"

"What?" She looked puzzled.

"It's a tea."

"Never heard of it. Must be fancy."

"I … I suppose." Another half memory tempted him, of delicate hands holding a bowl, of red satin, of … but it was gone again.

"It'll come back." Hannah spoke very softly.

"You saw it?" he asked.

"On your face." She made herself smile again. "Go on inside."

He managed to get to his feet, balancing on the crutches. "Yes, ma'am." Feeling stronger with every step, he followed the children, sorry to leave the dazzling white and freshness outside, but inordinately glad to be in the warm.

Finding he couldn't take the borrowed coat off, he leaned both of the crutches against the table, himself between them, and managed to get his arms out. It didn't even hurt that much, either. He glanced towards the outer door. Hannah was a damn good nurse.

Experimenting a little, he stood straighter, wondering if he could make it unaided to the closet to hang the coat back up, but decided not to push it too far for one day. Instead, he hooked one crutch under his right arm, and used it to help him along. Opening the door, the light hit a long brown duster coat hooked on the wall.

His eyebrows pulled together. It looked so familiar, and he had the irrational urge to pull it around to look at the left sleeve, see if there was a jagged tear been mended. No, not a tear. A bullet hole. He shook himself. There wouldn't be, because this wasn't his. He could see that from the length, from the way the sleeves would be too short. Must be Ben's. But he'd had a coat like that, and it was mended, and there was … This felt odd. Very odd. And pretty uncomfortable. He wanted to remember, to know what all these fleeting impressions meant, but there was also a part of him that didn't. He felt … settled. Happy. This wasn't his family, but he knew they could be. And his memory coming back would change all that.

A wave of guilt flashed through him so strong that he had to lean on the doorframe. Shaking his head he reached up and hung the coat he'd worn over the other, hiding it from view. Then he saw the rifle standing at the back of the closet. He lifted it out into the light.

Definitely not his either, he knew that. There were no voices, no flashes of imagery, but it was a good weapon. With sure hands he opened the breech and peered inside, checking it for dust and rust, but it was well looked after. He was about to put it back when he heard voices outside. Keeping the gun in his hand, he hobbled across to the window.

Hannah was talking to a man on a horse, who was smiling down at her, except the smile wasn't friendly, and it made his trigger finger itch. He couldn't hear what they were saying, but Hannah didn't look happy. In fact her knuckles were white from where she was gripping her armful of logs so tightly.

He was about to go outside, offer his help, when the man on the horse laughed, and tugged on the reins. His mount shied a little, but turned, galloping off. Hannah waited until the rider was out of sight, then hurried into the house.

"You okay?" he asked.

She looked at him. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"I saw -"

She interrupted him, glancing down to the rifle in his hands. "You seem to know what you're doing with that."

"Sorry. I saw it and I … you keep it clean."

"Ben showed me how."

"Did he teach you how to use it?"

She nodded slowly, closing the door. "I … he said I had to, especially with kids around. Keep us safe when he was out seeing to other folks, being the good doctor he was."

"He was right."

"I hate the damn thing." The vehemence in her voice surprised him.

"Why? It's just a tool."

She dropped the logs by the fire and turned on him. "I've seen what they do, remember? It was a bullet I pulled out of you, and you're not the first."

"Hannah, it's the way of life out here. You can do your best not to get involved, but sometimes -"

"It ain't right!" There were two spots of colour in her cheeks.

"No, I guess it's not." He stepped towards her, the crutch squealing a little on the wooden floor. "But you have to be able to defend yourself."

"Ma?" Jonah had come out of the back room. "You okay?" He glanced uneasily between them.

"It's all right," his mother assured him quickly, dragging up a smile. "Ben and me were just disagreeing over something."

"Sounded more than that."

Hannah shook her head. "Folks disagree all the time, Jonah. Now go back and get to your books. I expect you and Rachel to have done those sums by the time I come in."

"Ma …" He put a whole lifetime of pleading into the one word.

"Go on, now. I let you play in the snow with Ben, but that doesn't mean you get out of school work. What would Ms Tennyson say if she knew I was letting you shirk?"

"But it'll be ages before we can get back to -"

"Jonah. Books. Now."

The boy heaved a sigh from down in his boots, and turned back inside. "Yes, Ma."

"And close the door."

"Yes, Ma." He did as he was told and they were alone again.

"You need to sit down," she said, busying herself taking off her coat. "Don't want you falling over, first day up."

"I won't." He watched her a moment. "So who was he? The man you were speaking to?"

"No-one."

"I know what I saw." He narrowed his eyes a little. "Hannah, who is he?"

She made a dismissive motion with her hand. "He's just a neighbour. Came to see if we were okay, if we needed anything."

"It didn't look like that."

"Well, you don't know everything."

There was more, he was sure of it, but he was also sure she wasn't going to tell him anything else yet. But at least he could be ready. "Where're the bullets for this?" he asked, lifting the rifle a little.

"In the closet. On the shelf."

"You should keep it loaded."

Hannah glared at him. "I have two small kids. I ain't keeping a loaded weapon in the house."

"You have two small kids. And there ain't a friendly face for miles. Keep it loaded." He hobbled to the closet and pulled out the box of ammunition. "Put it high up somewhere, but you keep it loaded." He didn't look at her, didn't need to see the revulsion on her face, but didn't let it stop him either. Something was going on here, and she needed to be sensible. He sat down at the table and began to thrust the shells into the chamber.

-

Hammond was a moon like most of the others, with green areas along the shores and rivers, and the rest covered in scrub and dust. Hank manoeuvred Serenity in to land at the drop point on top of a slight hill, just beyond the perimeter of a large house.

"Nice place," he commented as he shut down the Firefly's engines.

"Expensive," Zoe said, checking her Mare's Leg at her thigh.

"Then that's how come he's paying well." He turned and smiled up at her.

"We're only here to drop the goods. Then we'll head back to Three Hills."

His good humour vanished. "Do you think Jayne's right? And that man Dyle wasn't the man who killed Mal?"

The mercenary had waved a couple of days before, too far out of range for vid, but they'd pored over his message for a long time.

"In this instance, I think I'd trust Jayne's judgement." She shook her head. "And believe me, I never thought I'd be using those words in the same sentence."

"I know what you mean, hon."

She looked beyond him, out of the bridge window. "Looks like we've got a welcoming party."

Hank stood up. "Well, since Jayne's not here, it looks like I'm the closest thing you've got to a mercenary."

"I'm not expecting trouble, Hank."

"We never do, Zoe. It just seems to find us."

He followed her down the stairs into the cargo bay, where he was surprised to see Freya waiting, her gun strapped to her hip.

"Frey?" he ventured. "Should you be -"

"Let's get this done." Freya barely looked at either of them, just pressed the button to open the bay doors.

Hank exchanged a worried glance with Zoe, but she shook her head slightly as the bright sunlight of Hammond washed in. Turning to the opening, Hank found he was having to squint to see, but as his eyes became adjusted he could make out half a dozen men walking up the slope.

Freya and Zoe descended the ramp, and if the men were surprised at being met by two women, none of them showed it.

"One of you Captain Reynolds?" One of them, better dressed than the others, stepped forwards.

"I'm Freya Reynolds." If it wasn't quite the truth no-one was going to enlighten him.

"I'm Emerson Crosby. Got my goods?"

"Got my money?"

Crosby grinned, showing two of his front teeth were gold. "Like the way you think, Ma'am." He pulled a leather pouch from his pocket. "Got it right here. Now it's your turn."

She didn't move. "Hank."

The pilot dragged a crate out from inside the bay, his face red with the effort.

"Good condition?"

"I wouldn't know," Freya said, her eyes cold. "Didn't look."

Crosby nodded. "Then you won't mind if I check."

She shrugged. "Go ahead."

He turned to his men, signalling to one of them, who moved to the crate, a crowbar in his hand. It was only the work of a moment to rip the lid off and reach a hand inside. It came out with a rifle, one of the new laser assisted types, guaranteed – or so the advertisements said – to hit dead centre every time. The man handed it to Crosby.

"Looks good." He sighted down the barrel.

"If the other crates are the same, you've got enough to start a small war," Freya noted. "And highly illegal. Seems to me these don't get exported without special licence."

Crosby shrugged. "I've got problems with marauders. Coming in, taking what they want and leaving bodies behind, and I ain't got the time to be pursuing the legal means." He patted the gun. "This'll make sure they don't do it more than once more." He narrowed his eyes at her. "You got a problem with that?"

"Not a one. What you do on your own world is none of my business. Now, the money."

Crosby grinned and tossed her the pouch. She didn't even bother to check it, just passed it to Zoe.

"You know, we could do with a few good gunhands," Crosby said. "Never can have too many."

Zoe looked at Freya, and realised she was seriously considering the offer. She stepped in, shaking her head. "We have places to be, Mr Crosby."

Freya glanced at her, and Zoe was taken aback by the ice in her eyes, but she said, "That's right. Need to get moving."

"Then we'll load up the mule and –"

A ricochet from Serenity's hull whined away before the sound of the gunshot registered in the hot, dry air.


	8. Chapter 8

Before the bullet had even fallen spent to the ground, Zoe had grabbed Hank and thrown him down, drawing her Mare's Leg as she hit the deck. Freya's gun was also out, but she was watching the hover come across the ground towards them from a stand of trees, followed by a dozen men on horses, and noting the flashes of muzzle blast from among the bushes at their base as more gunfire erupted. Snipers – at least one, probably two.

"Frey, get down!" Zoe called, but she took no notice.

Crosby and his men had scattered, taking up positions next to Serenity, using her as a minimal cover and firing back at the intruders, but they were still too distant for handguns.

Scooping up the laser rifle Crosby had dropped, Freya reached into the crate and pulled out a box of ammo, cracking it and sliding a magazine into the breech. She didn't notice the sudden pain of a graze across her left forearm, or if she did she ignored it. Bringing the rifle, she sighted on the hover, and pulled the trigger.

The recoil thudded into her shoulder, and she realised her shot had gone high. Adjusting for the unexpected power of the weapon, she fired again.

The hover seemed to twist in the air, and was suddenly rolling end over end. It hit a rock and almost bounced, then exploded into a white ball of flame.

The horseriders scattered, some still shooting sporadically, as Crosby and his men fired back from their shelter next to the Firefly, their accuracy a hell of a lot better than the raiders now the distance had shortened.

Freya heard a familiar gun open up next to her, and knew Zoe was taking some out too. She nodded grimly, and aimed at the muzzle flashes still showing in the trees. She fired, once, twice, three times, and the flashes stopped.

"They're running," Crosby shouted, leaping to his feet. Two more riders were down before they were out of range. "Get the horses!" he ordered. "Get after them!" His men ran back towards the house.

Freya lowered the rifle, her face not showing any emotion.

Zoe got to her feet, holstering her Mare's Leg. "You okay?" she asked Hank as he sat up.

"Winded," he admitted. "You're stronger than you look." He rubbed his chest.

"Next time I'll just let them shoot you," she said, satisfied he was okay.

"You're only saying that to get out of the wedding," he commented, levering himself to his feet.

Crosby turned to Freya. "Thanks."

"Just looking after me and mine."

"Well, in this instance it included me, so I'm grateful." He smiled a little.

"This is a good weapon," she said, looking the gun up and down. "Can I buy one off you?"

Crosby laughed. "Keep it. Sign of good will. And now we know what these things can do, and so do they. They'll think twice about coming back." He nodded. "I figure it's a good deal."

"Thanks." She glanced over her shoulder. "Hank, you fit to fly?"

"I'm shiny, Cap ..." He stopped, realising what he was about to say. "Frey, I'm –"

She ruthlessly stamped down on the flare of agony in her heart. "Then unload the rest of the crates and get us into the air."

"I ... sure, Frey." He hurried back into the Firefly and started tugging out the cargo. Zoe gave Freya a single look, then went to help.

Crosby was unaware of the undertone. "Are you sure I can't tempt you to stay a while?"

Freya shook her head. "Need to go."

"I understand."

They shook and Crosby strode back towards his home.

"Is everyone okay?" Simon asked, coming out of the common area, Sam following him.

Zoe straightened up. "Freya's wounded."

The young man hurried over. "Where?" he asked, checking her over.

Freya stared at him. "I'm not hurt."

He gently lifted her left arm. "I think you are."

She looked down in surprise at the blood that was staining her shirt. "It's just a graze."

"Let me be the doctor, just this once," he suggested. "You might need stitches."

Kaylee hurried out onto the top catwalk. "What happened?"

"Just a little gunfight," Zoe said, lifting the last crate with Hank and carrying it outside into the sunlight.

"I figured that, mostly from the shooting. I meant specifically."

"Does it matter?" Freya asked, pulling her arm away from where Simon was trying to examine it.

"If someone's shooting up Serenity, I think maybe it –"

"Just leave it, Kaylee!" Freya's voice reverberated through the cargo bay. "It ain't your concern!"

Simon glanced up at his wife, then back to the woman in front of him. "I think you need to come to the infirmary," he said softly.

"Why? So you can dope me like you used to dope your sister?" There was a viciousness none of them recognised in her tone.

"No. So I can clean out the graze and wrap it up." He wasn't going to take offence, and kept his voice gentle. "Freya, I know how you feel –"

"You lost a husband?" she asked, glaring at him.

"No, but –"

"Then don't presume to tell me how I feel!"

"What's going on?" Hank asked, coming back up the ramp, Zoe next to him.

"Nothing," Freya said. "Just close up and get us out of here."

"Frey's being unreasonable," Kaylee explained.

"I'm not."

"Then what's up?" Hank looked from one face to the other.

"Nothing!"

"I think there is." Zoe stepped closer. "Frey, why don't we talk while Hank gets us into the air?"

"I don't need to talk. Just need to be away from this place."

"And then what?"

"What?" Freya looked at her sharply.

"Then what? What do we do then?" Zoe asked.

"What we've always done. Keep flying. I know we had news of a job over on Harvest. We can –"

"What about River?"

"She's fine with Inara." She was almost dismissive of the young psychic.

"And Jayne? We're supposed to be picking him up." There was a belligerence in her tone that was like nothing they'd heard before. "Or are you planning on leaving him on Three Hills?"

Hank backed away a little.

Freya stood up, facing Zoe. "He can get a transport and meet us somewhere. I'm not going back there."

"You're not? Who put you in charge?"

For a second there was just the possibility that Freya was going to hit her. "Mal was my husband," she said softly, steel underneath.

"And he was my friend. And my captain. I was first mate. I believe that makes the ship mine."

"Yours?"

"Some of my money's gone towards keeping her in the air. I think that gives me rights."

"You think. You think." Freya stepped forward. "I don't think it gives you shit."

"Freya –" Sam began.

She glanced at him, darkness seeping from every pore. "Stay out of this."

"No. I won't." He put up his hands. "I know how you feel. I lost a wife. Most people on board have lost someone. But this isn't the way to –" He stopped as a bullet hit the wall next to his head.

"And I told you to keep out of this." Freya slid her gun into its holster, but her hand stayed close.

He didn't back down. "Or what? You'll shoot me? Go ahead, but Freya, it isn't me you're angry at. It's Mal."

Her jaw dropped. "At ... at Mal? You're ..." She couldn't find the words she wanted, the feelings almost overwhelming her, and ended up just shaking her head. "You're _fong luh_."

"It's part of the grieving process," he explained. "If you'd only talk to me –"

"No."

"Freya, he's right," Hank put in. "After Risa –"

"What is this, some kind of conspiracy?" She stared from one to the other.

"Just talk to Sam," Kaylee pleaded from halfway down the stairs.

"I don't need to talk to anyone," Freya insisted. "I'm fine."

"So shooting the wall is fine?" Simon asked. "Only I'd like to know, just in case someone's accidentally standing in the way when you do it next time."

She threw him a glare that should have withered him on the spot. "If everyone would just leave me alone, there wouldn't be any shooting." She strode away from them through the doorway into the common area, heading for her temporary quarters.

"Sam?" Zoe asked, turning to the therapist.

"I'll try again later. But I think for now, it's best to do as she wants, and leave her alone." He still looked worried, though.

"So?" Hank asked. "What do I do?"

"Which is closer? Three Hills or Lazarus?"

He thought for a moment. "At the moment, 'bout the same."

"Then Three Hills. We'll pick up Jayne then go get River."

"Okay." A shadow crossed his face. "And if Freya tells me something different?"

"_I'm_ telling you Three Hills. If Freya says anything, you tell her to come talk to me."

"Zoe, you ... you didn't mean it about Serenity being yours, did you?" Kaylee asked diffidently.

The first mate shook her head. "No. I ... this is Mal's ship, even if he ain't here anymore. But I hoped she'd want to ... that I could get some kind of reaction out of her."

Sam touched the bullet hole in the wall. "I think it worked."

"Yeah, sorry about that."

"Just let me know next time when you're planning on doing something like that. I'll duck."

"Don't worry. I will." She slammed her hand on the button to close the bay door. "Hank, get us the hell out of here."

-

Freya stood in the middle of the tiny room and unbuckled her gunbelt. Dropping it onto the bed, she ran her hands through her short hair, feeling the ache at the back of her skull.

She knew she'd gone too far, that they were only trying to help, but she couldn't let them. Not with this. If she did what they wanted, if she let go, she'd fly into a billion pieces and nothing and no-one would be able to put her back together again. She apologise later, but right now she needed to be on her own.

She dropped her head, suddenly feeling as if she could sleep for a month. Maybe she should have let Simon dope her. Maybe if she did sleep, without the dreams that haunted her, she'd wake up and be able to function like a proper person, instead of some kind of monster just going through the motions of a human being.

Her eyes lit on a capture on the small table by the bed. It hadn't been there earlier, so someone had been in her room, put it there. Probably Kaylee, although she'd found a few things that Bethany had left too, like a stuffed toy that she thought might comfort her.

She picked it up, turning it over and over in her hands. She didn't want to look, to see what was on it, but something inside made her run her finger over the switch, activating the picture and sound.

"Don't know why you want this," Mal's voice filled the room. "It ain't like you need it for posterity." He was just sitting on the bed, their bed, in their bunk, holding a small bundle.

"That's exactly it." Her own voice, slightly distorted by the recording. "That's your first born you're holding there, Mal. I want to have something to show him when he's all grown up, and bringing his girlfriend home to see us. Maybe blackmail him with when he's being ... ornery."

Mal grinned. "You're vicious."

"Don't tell me you hadn't thought of the same thing."

He laughed, and the Freya of the here and now had to sit down suddenly, not being able to breathe.

"I hadn't necessarily considered it in those terms," the Mal recording said. "I was thinking more in terms of the customary picture of a naked baby on a fur rug."

"Did you have one of those too?" The Freya recording laughed.

"Of course." Mal looked down at his son. "Every Reynolds as far back as anyone can remember had their picture took like that."

"And the Rostovs."

He smiled up at the capture. "Then I don't think we should be breaking with tradition."

"Well, if you put it like that ..."

A small wail began.

"Hey, I think your son needs a feed," Mal said, holding out the bundle.

"How come he's _my_ son when he needs something?"

"Frey, the truth is, and I hate to break it to you now like this, but I don't have breasts."

"No?"

"No. So me trying to feed _our_ son ain't gonna work."

"You have nipples."

"And believe me I've often wondered why."

"Because I like them?"

He laughed. "Could be. Permaybehaps God looked into the future and saw that Freya Reynolds liked nipples on men and that was why He created Adam with them."

"On _one_ man," she corrected. "And that's as good a reason as any."

He peered at her. "I think you need to speak to Simon. I'm pretty positive he can give you rhyme and reason on why men are endowed with them."

"Probably." The image tilted a little, then steadied, apparently because the capture maker was put down on a table, since there was movement in the picture and Freya appeared, sitting down next to her husband. "Better give him to me, then." She began opening her shirt.

"Frey, that thing still running?" Mal asked, nodding towards the screen.

"I think so."

"Then don't you think you should turn it off before getting ..."

She smiled. "I was actually thinking that you could keep it, for when we're old and grey, and you need something to remind you that once I was beautiful."

He put his hand on her cheek. "Don't need reminding on that, Frey." His voice had changed, become tender. "For as long as I live, and longer, I'll know. Always beautiful, _xin gan_."

"My husband."

They leaned together, their son between them, and kissed, but Freya wasn't watching any longer. She'd slid from the bed to the floor, curled up into a foetal ball, tears soaking into her hair.


	9. Chapter 9

Jayne pushed through the door and into the bar, taking a deep breath of the smoky and alcohol laden air, feeling it fill his lungs, and headed towards the counter.

"Ain't seen you in a few days," the barkeep said, automatically pouring a beer. He pushed it across the wood. "Figured you'd upped and moved on."

"Not yet. Still got some unfinished business."

"With Lily?"

He shrugged. "Maybe."

"Only she's been moping around here like a wet weekend. Wondered if you'd broken her heart."

"Not me." Jayne drank half the mug. "She here at the moment?"

"I guess." The barkeep didn't seem that interested in keeping tabs on the women who worked his place. "In her room, I think."

"Well, she ain't mooning over me. She ain't got nothing I want." He finished the beer, putting the mug back down precisely on the wet ring on the counter. "You know, I recall there was a feller looking for someone just a day or two ago. You see him?"

"A feller?"

"Big. Real big. Couldn't miss 'im."

The barkeep nodded. "Oh, yeah. Came in, looking for his … what, cook, was it?"

"That was him." Jayne turned to look at the customers. "What'd you tell him?"

"I didn't. Comes in here, demanding to know if I'd seen this guy, and doesn't even do the courtesy of buying a drink."

"That's terrible." Jayne pushed his mug across and the barkeep refilled it. "And had you? Seen him?"

"Yeah. Coupla days ago. Got that scar on his face and everything, just like his captain'd said."

"Really."

"Just the once, mind. Funnily enough Lily made a play for him, and they went off to her room. By the time they got back they was smiling." He laughed slyly. "Guess the scar didn't put her off." He moved off to serve someone else.

"Guess not," Jayne muttered under his breath. He caught a whiff of a familiar cheap perfume, and turned his head. Lily had just stepped into the bar from the back. Arranging his face into a pleasant expression, he ambled over, coming up behind her. "Miss Lily," he said, his breath on her neck.

She span on her heel, and her face lost most of its colour under her make-up. She stared at him. "I thought you'd gone."

Jayne shrugged. "Nope. Just saving my coin 'stead of drinking it away." He smiled. "You don't look like you're pleased to see me."

She pulled herself together. "Well, since the last time was over a dead body, I admit it was something of a shock."

_Not the only dead body_, Jayne thought. Not with what he'd found out on the edge of town.

-

"Ben, I'm just going to check the fish traps," Hannah called, pulling her coat tighter around her body, heading out of the door into the late afternoon chill.

"What?" He hobbled out of the bathroom, but she'd already gone. "Fish traps?" he asked Jonah, who was sitting at the table, his legs swinging, going over a lesson his mother had set for him.

"We get fresh fish sometimes," the boy explained. "Ma's got some wicker traps set up at the mouth of the river, and sometimes we're lucky, even this time of the year." He grimaced. "Otherwise it's protein."

"Well, that can be fun too," he laughed. "Depends what you do with it."

"I suppose." He turned back to his book.

"What are you studying?"

"G'ography," Rachel supplied, sitting next to her brother. "Other planets and stuff."

"It's boring," Jonah added.

He pulled out a chair and sat down. "Again, it depends on what you do with it. Show me."

Jonah looked sideways at him, then risked a peek towards the door his mother had just gone out of. "You supposed to be helping us?" he asked.

"What else is there to do? Come on. What are you looking at?"

The boy glanced at his sister, then pushed the book across the table. "Ma wants us to list the primary exports of these planets."

"That shouldn't be too hard." He grinned and pointed. "Well, New Melbourne's easy. That's fish, too."

Both children wrote quickly on a pad of paper, their handwriting the large, ill-formed letters of the young, and Jonah looked up expectantly. "How about Boros?"

"Main exports? Wheat and …"

By the time Hannah came back, weighed down by her basket, her children were rolling around with laughter, and the man who had made them happy was holding up his hands.

"No, I mean it. Swore blind they were dragons' eggs. 'Til they hatched, then the place was filled with chickens."

"Ben, are you telling stories?" she asked, putting the basket in the sink, smiling nevertheless.

"Just something I heard once," he protested, grinning back at her. "From someone."

"'Bout dragons' eggs?"

"A tall tale, I'll grant you. But every word of it true." He stood up. "Can I help you with those?"

"You any good at gutting fish?"

"Uh … not something I ever recall doing." He clutched his hands to his chest. "Ah, the benefits of having no memory."

"Then it's just as well I already did them." She laughed at the relieved look on his face. "But you can make some coffee if you really want to help."

"No sooner said than –"

He was interrupted by the sound of a horse outside, and Jonah ran to the window. "It's a rider, Ma," he said, then started to back away. "Ma …"

Hannah was looking out immediately. "_Diyu_," she muttered. "Stay inside."

"Yes, Ma."

She hurried out into the cold, closing the door carefully behind her.

"Ben, come away from the window," Jonah asked, his voice worried.

"Who is he?" He still stared out at the horseman, the same one from a couple of days before.

"That's Mr Kendall. He owns the place next to us." Jonah sidled up to him. "He's been on at Ma to sell up, but she won't."

"Why?"

"It was Pa's," the boy explained. "Bought it for her to be someplace for them to go when he got too old for doctoring. Only …"

"Yeah." He reached down and put his hand on Jonah's shoulder, his eyes still on the man outside. He didn't look as happy as last time, and was pointing a finger at Hannah. "Jonah, take Rachel into the other room." Hobbling across the floor as fast as he could, he opened the closet and pulled out the rifle. Swiftly checking it to make sure it was still loaded, he turned back. "Jonah, do as I say."

"Yes, Ben." Jonah took his sister's hand and pulled her away.

He couldn't handle both the rifle and the crutch, so he leaned it against the wall. Not waiting to hear the children's door close, he stepped a little shakily out into the cold. It bit into his exposed skin, but he ignored it. "Hannah. You okay?"

The man on the horse turned to look at him. "Who's this?" There was a sneer on his face. "You taking in strays now?"

Hannah didn't look round. "It ain't none of your affair. And I told you before. In fact, I'm getting pretty tired of telling you. I ain't selling. This is my land, and I do with it what I want."

"You don't _do_ anything," Kendall pointed out. "All this forest could be felled, and the river means cheap energy for a mill, let alone the sea being so close. I could take all this lumber out of here and make a healthy gorram profit."

"It ain't yours."

He leaned forward, his hands on the pommel of his saddle. "You know, I have the feeling it will be, Hannah." He stopped as he heard the cocking of a rifle.

"Ben, don't," Hannah said softly.

"Why not? Man comes here, uninvited, threatens you." His hands were steady on the weapon, the barrel not moving an inch. "I think you're within your rights to shoot him."

"I'm not the one with the gun," she pointed out. "And I don't think anyone's going to get killed today."

"Well, that remains to be seen."

Kendall glared at him, then looked back at Hannah. "Better leash him, Hannah. 'Fore someone takes it into their mind to put him down. And you think over my offer. It's better'n you'll get from anyone else."

"Since I'm not selling, that don't worry me." She stepped forward. "Now get off my land."

For a moment no-one moved, then Kendall touched his hat in a travesty of a salute, and dragged on his reins, kicking his heels in. The horse galloped off.

Hannah let out a breath, then turned, her face white with anger. "And what do you think you were doing?"

He lowered the gun, surprised at the vehemence of her temper. "Defending you."

"I didn't ask you to!" She hurried into the house.

He followed, slower, feeling the ache in his belly from standing straight on his own. "Hannah, that man's trouble."

"Oh, you know that, do you?"

"Yeah, I do." He caught hold of her arm. "He's not going to stop until you sell."

She narrowed her eyes. "And you know this … how?"

He shook his head. "I don't know. But trust me on this. This is going to go bad."

"Is that it? What you are? Are you a crook?" She pulled herself free. "Takes one to know one?"

"Hannah, listen to me –"

"No! You just threatened a man! And you'd have shot him, too, wouldn't you?"

"If he'd made a move against you, yes, I probably would."

"I really don't know you at all, do I?" She backed away.

He didn't follow her, just looked at her steadily. "_I_ don't know me, Hannah."

Taking a deep breath, she nodded slowly. "I guess that's the case." Turning, she undid her coat. "Well, I have a meal to get ready. You'd better … go do something else."

He watched her take off her coat and pick up a sharp knife, and knew she meant what she said.

-

Jayne watched Lily as she arranged her dress around her knees. She was fidgeting a bit, but he generously put that down to the fact that he'd refused to pay her for her time, just bought her a drink instead.

"Ya know, I don't think Dyle did kill himself," he said slowly, nursing the whisky in front of him. "I think someone caught him by surprise and shoved a gun in his mouth. He probably didn't have a chance to fight back before they pulled the trigger."

Her eyes widened. "Why'd they do that?"

"Well, I've been doing a lot of thinking the past few days. And I don't think Dyle was alone in this." He leaned forward. "I mean, where's the cash he must've made from selling the stuff? That hole he was living in weren't worth squat, and there was no sign of the pickings. So either he sold it, maybe gambled it away, or someone else has it."

"He did like to gamble," Lily said quickly, jumping on his words. "Piss poor at it, too. Could've easily lost it all."

Jayne took a mental breath. So he was right. "Could be that," he admitted. "But no-one's mentioned buying anything off him. I still say he was killed by his partner."

"But who'd that be? Mickey was a loner. And he'd just come here, following me."

"True." He sipped his drink, enjoying the burning sensation of the alcohol down his throat almost as much as realising his gut feelings were correct too. "Only that kinda suggests it wasn't even him."

"What?"

"You said. He only just came here. Following you." She looked flustered for a moment, and he allowed himself to think on what he'd found that morning. A body, out by the abandoned warehouses on the edge of town. He'd never've found it if he hadn't been looking, but there was a patch of earth where the snow hadn't fallen, and there were drag marks. The local wild animals had already been at it, but there was just about enough of the face left to see the scar. And the bullet hole in the centre of the chest.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she insisted, patting her hair.

He smiled coldly. "Just talkin', Lily. Just talkin'." He twisted the knife a little. "Only if there was a partner, and he still has the goods, him and anyone working with him ain't gonna survive the winter." His voice had dropped to an almost-whisper, but there was a promise in it.

"Well, you're talking _fei hua_." She tossed her drink down her neck and stood up. "Mickey was a creep, and far as I'm concerned he was a killer too, and the 'verse is better off without him. And all that stuff he took? Probably sold it to some other creep off a ship, and it's long gone. Gambled it away, like I said." She glared down at him. "And you go around saying it's otherwise, you might find yourself in a whole heap of trouble."

"You threatening me, girl?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

"No. Just folks around here don't like questions, nor the people asking them. Your friend is dead, and the man who killed him is likewise." She tossed her head. "And I got work to do." She walked away, sashaying over to a man leaning on the bar and draping herself over him.

Jayne watched her go, a smile playing around his lips. Two minutes, that was all she was gone in the bathroom that day, but more'n long enough to give the heads up to someone. Then she kept him waiting while she mucked about with her clothes before they got going. Time enough for someone to get to Mickey before he did. To blow the back of his head off.

He stretched his legs under the table. Now all he had to do was wait.

-

She stepped down into the dining area, and all conversation stopped, every head lifting to look at her.

"Um, Frey," Kaylee began somewhat diffidently. "There's some food in the pot if you want it. I was gonna bring you a plate but if you want to eat with us –"

Freya shook her head gently at the young mechanic. "No. I'm not hungry. But thanks."

"I can put some aside for you."

"If you like." She looked back at the rest of the crew. "But I really came to tell you all something."

Zoe put down her fork. "If it's about before, it's me who should be apologising to you."

"No. Well, yes, but you're not apologising for anything. I was in the wrong. You're right. Serenity isn't mine. And if I was right, then she still belongs to all of you as well, just as much as you're all Mal's friends too." She smiled a little. "I should've remembered that."

"It ain't nothing," Kaylee said. She patted the empty chair next to her. "Why don't you sit down? You look like you could do with a decent meal. Not that it's that decent. Hank cooked."

"Hey!" the pilot complained, but only half-heartedly.

"No. Really, I'm not hungry. But maybe later." She looked back at Zoe. "And you're right. We need to collect Jayne. He's not going to be too pleased having to spend his own coin if we don't."

"That's true." The dark woman nodded. "And we're on our way there already."

Freya almost laughed. "Somehow I thought we might be. And I _am _sorry." She turned and walked out, her head dropped onto her chest.

"She's better," Kaylee said, heaving a sigh of relief. "Coming out of it."

"Maybe that's the way to get through to people," Hank added. "Though I think we're as likely to get shot doing it."

Zoe felt a weight lift from her, then saw the look that passed between Simon and Sam. No. Not out of the woods yet.

-

"I'm sorry, Ben."

They'd eaten, in a somewhat strained atmosphere, and the children had gone to read in bed, and now it was just the two of them, sitting in the soft light of the fire.

"What for? It was my fault. Coming out there. Should've known you were handling it." He leaned back in the chair, watching the flames dance around the logs.

"No, I was wrong. You were protecting me. And I should have been grateful, not shouting at you."

"Then how about we agree we were both wrong?" He smiled at her, the warm glow catching the planes of his face. The bandage around his head was long gone, but it would take a while before the hair grew back where the bullet had gouged his scalp.

"Okay." She settled back, drawing her feet up under her like a cat.

The action made him itch, almost as if he was seeing someone else do the same, and for a moment it was virtually there, all his life, every day from when he came crying up to the moment he'd been shot. Then it was gone again, and only the taste remained.

She knew, had seen the tightening of his face, and it loosened her tongue enough to say what she'd wanted to for a long time. "You don't have to go."

"What?" He looked at her, his blue eyes dark in the gloom.

"You don't have to go. When the snow melts, I don't have to tell anyone I found you on the beach. We could say you're Ben's cousin, come to visit, and you decided to stay."

"You've been thinking about this?"

She shrugged, dropping her chin so he couldn't see the smile that lifted her lips. "Maybe a little." She slipped off the chair and went down onto her knees next to him, taking hold of his hand. "Ben, stay with me."

He looked down into her face. "Hannah, you were right. You don't know anything about me. Not even my name."

"I know enough."

"We were just arguing about me holding a rifle on a man," he pointed out.

"With the best intentions."

"That ain't enough."

She smiled. "I know you're a God-loving man, at least."

"How –"

She reached forward and gently touched the gold cross at his neck, just visible inside the borrowed shirt. "By this."

He put his hand up, lifted the chain. As he turned it to catch the light, he saw, for a fraction of a moment, a woman's face, her hazel eyes gazing at him, love written large in them …

"Ben?"

It was gone, and he couldn't bring her back. A wave of loss engulfed him. "Hannah, I'm … I'm sorry. I can't do this." He stood up quickly, ignoring the sharp tug in his belly, and walked away from her, grabbing the coat from the chair and going outside into the dark and the snow.


	10. Chapter 10

Jayne didn't have to wait too long. As the night wore on, Lily kept glancing at him, even as he played a hand of poker with some of the other men. Not that he had to turn to see her. He'd sat with his back to the wall, and every time she looked over, she could see him smiling faintly at her. Eventually, a couple of hours past midnight, she was spooked enough.

She crossed to the counter, beckoning the barkeep. "Bill, I ain't feelin' too well. Gonna lie down for a while. Can you make sure no-one comes back to see me?"

"Sure. You need a doc or something?"

"No. Just a sleep. Bit smoky in here tonight."

"Yeah, guess it is." He shrugged. "And you do look a trifle green 'round the gills."

She narrowed her eyes. "I've just got a headache, okay?"

"Sure." He went back to shining his glasses. "Just let me know when you're open for business again."

Lily glanced over at the big man playing cards, but for once he wasn't taking any notice of her, intent on studying his hand instead. Hurrying to her room she quickly changed her clothes.

Jayne stretched. "And that just about does me," he said, tossing his cards into the centre of the table. "Ain't no way I'm gonna win tonight."

"You sure? Just one more wager?" asked the small man in the grubby derby who put the big mercenary in mind of Badger.

"You're only saying that 'cause you got a heap of my coin in front of you." Jayne grinned and stood up. "'Nother time, maybe."

"Sure. Whenever you wanna lose, come on back."

"Oh, I'll be sure to." Jayne picked up his jacket and shrugged into it, hunching his shoulders down inside before heading out into the night.

Five minutes later and Lily looked out of the back door, checking all around before closing it quietly behind her. She kept to the deeper shadows, her feet silent in her soft shoes, listening all the time in case someone was following. She paused as she reached the main street, tilting her head back and forth as she almost sniffed the air before being satisfied. Crossing the road, she hurried down an alley towards the better side of town.

She was cold by the time she reached the house, slipping the key out of her pocket and letting herself in. It was only a little warmer inside, but at least she was out of the wind.

"Vance?" she called, standing at the bottom of the stairs. "You here?"

There was no response. She bit her lip, but decided there was no point going back. Opening the door into the main room, she sat herself down in the large armchair by the fireplace, tugging a throw across her lap, and settled to wait.

Opposite the house, in the deep shadows thrown by an empty building, under the swinging sign saying it was for sale, Jayne leaned back on the wall, his head drawn into his neck, his hands thrust under his armpits. There was a smile on his face that any one of Serenity's crew would have recognised. It was the smile of a man who was content to wait for his prey to arrive, to come to him. The smile of a man who was ready to kill. So much easier than going hunting.

-

"The track's clearing," Hannah said, carrying a load of logs inside, the thin light of daybreak following her. "I think maybe tomorrow I should be able to make it to town."

She was acting as if the previous night hadn't happened, that he hadn't spent nearly an hour outside on his own, while she got ready for bed. She'd only just slipped under the covers when he came back in, bringing the cold with him. As he stripped in the firelight, she could see he was shivering, and when he climbed in next to her she lay still, pretending to be asleep.

"I know you ain't," he said softly.

"You're cold." She put her hand across the bolster between them, resting it on his chest, feeling his icy skin beneath her fingertips.

"I had to think. Come to a decision."

"And did you?"

"No." He almost chuckled. "Got too frozen for my sorry excuse for a brain to work."

"Well, if you come down with a fever don't come running to me."

"I won't." He lay stiff next to her, his low body temperature cooling the blankets.

"Ben …"

"Leave it, Hannah. Just … leave it." He sighed and rolled over, away from her. "We can talk in the morning."

"Sure."

It had taken him hours to get to sleep. She knew. She hadn't slept at all.

She'd got up even before the cracks of dawn appeared in the sky, and now she had her cheerful face on, matching her cheerful voice, chattering away as she stacked the wood, knowing he was getting dressed behind her.

"I mean, we've got enough dried supplies to last us a few more weeks, but some fresh vegetables would be nice. I could do a stew. Maybe make it with meat for a change, if I can get some in town –"

"Hannah."

"Of course, I might need help with the preparation, but I know you won't mind –"

"Hannah."

She stopped, turning on her heels. "What?"

"I'm not staying."

"Not …" She sat back hard onto the hearth, and he was immediately at her side, helping her to her feet.

"Here." He guided her to a chair.

She swallowed. "Not staying."

"No." His blue eyes were soft, sympathetic. "But you always knew that."

"I … I know, but … I thought …" She let the words tumble from her lips. "I love you."

"I know." He shook his head. "But there's someone else."

"Not since Ben –"

"Not you. Me."

She sat back. "You remember?"

"No." He took a deep breath. "I just … I know. Hannah, if there wasn't, I would've taken you to bed last night. Made love to you, just like I know you wanted me to. Like _I_ wanted to. But I couldn't." He took a deep breath. "Somewhere out there is a woman. I don't know who she is, or where, but I think I belong to her. And I'm not planning to be unfaithful." He unconsciously touched the ring finger of his left hand before taking hers.

"And if your memory doesn't come back? What then?"

His lips lifted a little. "Then I'll travel the 'verse until someone recognises me. Tells me who I am. Where she is." He squeezed her fingers. "Hannah, I'm sorry."

He went to move away but she wouldn't let him. "What if she don't love you? Not like I do?"

"Then at least I'll have tried." He pondered a moment how to explain. "Hannah, you know what it's like. Losing someone you love. How it eats you up inside. Well, I've … felt things. Pain. Longing. And it ain't just from my side."

"That's crazy talk."

He gave a small bark of laughter. "Probably. But I've still felt it. And if it's her … if it's the woman who loves me …" He smiled ruefully. "Gotta try, Hannah."

She stood quickly, wrapping her arms around him. "I don't want you to go."

"I know." He embraced her, but knew this was right. "But I have to."

"Now?"

"No. Not unless you want to throw me out into the snow. But soon. Maybe when it warms a little. And definitely after you've told your sheriff about Kendall threatening you."

"He didn't –"

He pushed her back. "Yes, he did."

She sighed. "Well, maybe he did. But telling the sheriff ain't gonna do much good. Vance and Kendall have always been in each other's pockets, ever since they were kids. That's how come Kendall's got to where he is, 'cause our own lawman looks the other way."

His hands on her shoulders, he dipped his head to gaze into her eyes. "Then you talk to people. If they know what he's trying to do, maybe it'll put him off if everyone knows."

She could get lost in those blue orbs, she decided. "How come you're so nice, Ben?"

He laughed. "Me? I'm a mean old man, Hannah. Everyone says so."

"I doubt that. I doubt that most sincerely." She shook herself. "And I'll go into town tomorrow. The track's near clear enough. If you were with anyone, they're bound to have left messages for you."

"Unless they think I'm dead."

She smiled, finally, if more than a little sadly. "Well, then, you can make their day and get resurrected."

-

Sheriff Taylor Vance stood in the doorway to his living room and stared, his hand still on the light switch. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Lily sat up quickly, rubbing the sleep from her eyes and smudging her make-up. She glanced at the clock – it was nearly nine in the morning. "Where've you been?" she demanded.

"Out."

"Where?"

He put his hands on his hips. "If'n it's any of your business, talking to Kendall. He's getting mighty annoyed at the business with Hannah Tebril, and now he says she's gone and got herself a man out there. Threatened him with a rifle, no less." He shucked out of his coat. "I don't think I'm gonna be able to keep him in check much longer. He's got it in mind to do something stupid." He turned to glare at her. "And I'm still waiting to hear what you're doing in my place."

"I've got a key." She held it up, snatching her fingers back quickly as he made a grab for it.

"That was for emergencies only," he growled, watching as she tucked it inside her cleavage.

"Yeah, like when you want a quick roll but didn't wanna have to get out of bed to let me in." She almost sneered.

"Pretty much." He didn't care what she thought of him, since the feelings were more than reciprocal.

"'Sides, this _is_ an emergency."

"Somehow I doubt it." He sighed heavily. "So? Come on then. What is it? This emergency that makes you invade my privacy, when I specifically told you not to?"

"Jayne Cobb."

"What?"

"Jayne Cobb. That man who's been asking around. The one who figured out about Mickey."

"You mean the reason I killed that summbitch?"

She shuddered, still remembering the sight of brains across the wall, and the smell of blood mixed with gunpowder. "Yeah." She stepped forward. "You hafta to get rid of him."

"Why?"

"Because he's still here! Vance, he's suspicious as hell! Keeps saying Mickey wasn't the one, or that he had a partner –"

"Partner? That _cai bao zi_?" He laughed. "Couldn't find his own ass without a map, let alone someone'd work with him."

"I don't think you should be going around calling anyone an idiot," Lily said scathingly. "You were the one killed Pi."

"You on first name terms now?" Vance dropped into a chair. "He was just a _hwoon dahn_ off some ship. No-one's hardly noticed he's gone."

"And I told you you should've waited!"

"Since when do I take orders from you?" He rubbed the bridge of his nose. "And why do you care? You got your share."

"Because Cobb's still around!" She stood directly in front of him, her hands on her hips.

"Lily, you got all manner of burrs under your saddle, and it's making me fractious. Why don't you sit down so we can talk about this?" He reached up to touch her, but she took a step back.

"And that ain't gonna help. Vance, Cobb's trouble. I can smell it. You killed his friend, and he ain't leaving until someone's dead."

Vance sat back. "Someone is. Mickey Dyle. Shot him myself. Ain't that enough?"

"Not for him." She narrowed her eyes. "Why didn't you leave something in his place? Just to make it look like he'd done the robbing?"

"And waste it?" Vance laughed. "No way."

"Well that persuaded Cobb, pretty much all by itself." She turned away from him. "And that –" Suddenly she squealed, backing up.

"What's got into you?" Vance asked.

"I think she's talking about me," Jayne said from the doorway, his gun already in his hand.

Vance jumped to his feet. "What the hell –"

Jayne dropped the gunbelt he was carrying on the table. "Just taking me a look around." He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Nice place. But the locks ain't too good." He lifted his gun. "And don't go trying to draw on me. I'm way too fast for ya, even if I weren't already holding a pistol on ya."

"Do you have any idea who you're threatening?" Vance asked, moving his hand away slightly.

"Pretty much. And from what I can see, you're a fool, too." Jayne nodded towards the gunbelt. "Keeping stuff like that."

"Like what?" Vance shrugged. "Confiscated it from a feller, making a ruckus in town. Never did come to get it back."

"You confiscate this too?" Jayne held something up, letting the grey light through the windows reflect back from its gold surface.

"What …" Lily stared.

"A wedding band," the big man explained. "What, did you think you might wanna get married one day?"

"Put it down."

"Nope, not planning on that." His eyes moved quickly to Lily, who had taken a step forward. "And you just stay where you are. I can take both of you out, easy as blinkin'." He looked back at Vance. "Trouble is, this one's a little too recognisable. Seeing as there's words inside." He turned the ring. "Only maybe you hadn't noticed."

"Words?"

"Mmn." The light caught the engraving, bringing the words into sharp relief. _My Freya, my love_. "Never did know he'd had it done," Jayne added, tucking the ring into his pants pocket. "Don't think she does, either."

Vance licked suddenly dry lips. "She?"

"His wife. Well, his widow, to be precise." Jayne glared. "You know. The one whose heart broke when you gave her his coat back."

The sheriff stared at him. "All of this? You did all of this for her? You sweet on her or something?"

"She's my friend. So was he, odd to tell. Ain't had too many of them in the past to wanna lose one." He glanced at Lily and shook his head slightly. "You should've kept to whoring."

She bridled. "What I am ain't nothing to do with you!"

"So what did you do, Lily?" he asked. "Tell the bastards you liked 'em? Wanted to meet 'em private? Away from everyone? Just so's your pal here could take 'em out?" He almost chuckled. "Known more'n one like you. And they were prettier, too."

"C_hur ni duh_."

"Not if you were the last woman in the 'verse."

She launched herself at him, her fingers curved into claws intent on scratching out his eyes, just as Vance drew and fired. The bullet took her in the back, throwing her into him. He pushed her away, but the sheriff had taken advantage, covering the small distance between them, and tackled the big man, knocking Betsey from his hand.

They went down to the ground wrestling, Jayne pushing Vance's gun away from him, even as the other man pulled the trigger. The muzzle blast burned their faces and deafened them, but they didn't stop fighting.

Jayne knew he had one chance. He rolled, taking Vance with him until the sheriff was underneath, all his considerable weight on the man. Then, surprising his opponent, he let go of the gun, and grabbed Vance's chin, forcing it back, even as his other hand snicked down to his belt.

Vance pushed with his heels against the floor, trying to throw Jayne off just enough to get his gun back into play. Then his eyes went wide. He tried to speak, to protest, but blood bubbled from the corner of his mouth as he struggled against the agony flaring in his belly. He tried to squirm away from it, but every movement made it worse until he felt like he was on fire.

"You listening?" Jayne asked, still laying on him. "She wanted to gut you herself, only you ain't gonna live that long. So I'm doing it for her." His hand twisted, and Vance tried to scream past the blood in his throat. "For Frey," Jayne added. "And for the man you killed. For Mal." He twisted again, but this time there was only gurgles. Then silence.

After a moment Jayne sat back, idly aware he was covered in blood and other bodily fluids. He looked down at the man he'd just killed, feeling little more than vague satisfaction. It wouldn't bring Mal back, of course, but maybe Freya'd get some peace from it.

He wiped his blade on the dead man's shirt, slipping it back into its sheath as he stood up, then he stopped, listening hard.

Someone was still breathing. Making scratching noises.

He turned, looked at Lily. Her hand was moving, her nails making tiny sounds on the floor, and there were indistinct words coming from her lips. He went down onto his haunches next to her.

"Weren't my fault," she kept saying, her voice little more than a pained whisper. "Weren't my fault."

"He helped you," Jayne said quietly. "He stopped a man beating up on you, and you still set him up."

She hadn't heard. "Weren't … weren't my fault," she stammered one last time, then lay silent. Jayne closed her unseeing eyes.

Getting to his feet, he finished searching the house, finding what he wanted in the cupboard under the stairs. Five minutes later he closed the door carefully, and went back to stand in the lea of the vacant house once more. Absently stroking the leather of Mal's gunbelt as it hung from his shoulder, his other hand was turning the gold wedding band in his pocket while he waited. It didn't take long.

The curtain at the window downstairs caught first, then he could see tongues of flame leaping up from the kerosene he'd splashed liberally around. He only paused long enough to see it well alight, then melted into the grey day, his coat closed tightly over the evidence of the night's activities.


	11. Chapter 11

Zoe sat down at the table, put the coffee mug down in front of her and closed her eyes. She was tired. Very tired. She 'd known this kind of tiredness before, particularly during the war, when she'd just kept going, doing what she needed to do, but was aware, all along, that at some point her body was just going to lie down and go to sleep, no matter what her brain said. And it was no good getting pumped up on ammies, as the drop would be even worse. Right now her body was starting to call in its marker, and if she didn't get some rest soon, she'd be in real trouble.

"Hon?" Hank stood in the doorway. "You okay?"

She opened her eyes and looked at him. "Shiny." She managed a smile. "What's up?"

"Wave from Jayne." He nodded back over his shoulder. "He's on screen now. I think he has news. Only it's a public vid booth so he's being a bit circumspect."

She stood up. "Get everyone together."

"Frey?"

Zoe thought for a moment. "No. Not yet. Let's wait 'til we find out what Jayne has to say first. But the others."

"On it." He hurried away.

She followed at a slower pace, climbing the bridge stairs to see Jayne's face on the vid.

"Well?" she asked with no preliminaries.

"When're you due in?"

"About six hours. Did you find anything?"

The mercenary nodded. "Surely did." He explained, watching Zoe's face grow ever more impassive as he did so.

In the galley the rest of the crew – minus Freya – were congregating.

"Any idea what Jayne has to say?" Simon asked Hank.

"Nope. Wouldn't tell me." He sat down heavily in one of the chairs.

"Do ya think … maybe they've found …" Kaylee couldn't finish the sentence.

"I doubt it," Sam said quietly, his hands clenched in front of him. "If Mal went into the sea …"

"'Sides, there ain't likely to be much left to find, not after all this time," Hank added, trying to be gentle.

Kaylee swallowed. "I guess." She was glad she'd left Bethany down in the nursery with the other children: talking about dead bodies wasn't something a four year old should have to deal with.

Simon looked at Sam. "How's Freya? Every time I try to speak to her she tells me she's fine and to go back to my work."

"Me too." A worried look marred his smooth olive face.

"But she's better, ain't she?" Kaylee asked. "I mean, she ain't over the Captain … none of us are … but … I mean she was talking, and smiling even before. Apologised, even."

Sam was saved from answering by Zoe stepping down into the dining area.

"Well?" Hank asked, sitting forward.

Kaylee's face fell. "It … it ain't good, is it?"

"Depends. No body, not yet." Zoe saw the young woman's face tighten. "But he found the man. The one who killed the captain."

"That's good, right?" Her hand fumbled for Simon's. "Right?"

"He had to kill him."

"Oh."

Hank looked at the others. "Well, it's a pity that happened. I mean, since there can't be a trial and a hanging. But the man got what he deserved."

"So who …" Simon stopped, aware he was about to ask a crass question.

"Who was it?" Zoe filled in, and the young doctor nodded, embarrassed. "Would never have figured it, but it was the sheriff."

"What?" Hank shook his head. "But he was helping us. Looking for Mal."

"Maybe he wasn't looking all that hard." Zoe sat down and picked up her coffee mug, realising it was stone cold. "Only now I gotta tell Frey."

-

Jayne walked back into Francine's whorehouse, feeling like he could sleep for a week. He expected to have a hot coffee, a huge plate of food, and then to fall into bed. What he didn't expect was a body thrown at him as soon as he got through the door.

Pushing it away, he realised there was trouble. It looked like maybe eight or nine men he didn't recognise, fighting fist to fist, and in one case bottle to fist, with Francine's muscle, and they seemed to be winning. Enough was enough, and his temper burst. Wading into the fray, he starting knocking heads, punching and generally letting his anger out, until there was nothing but a pile of groaning bodies in the centre of the room.

Francine stood by the bar, her hands on her hips. "Gorram it," she said loudly, glaring at her own men. "It takes a stranger to come in and clean up this mess? What the hell do I pay you for?"

There was mutterings, but no-one came out and complained.

"Stranger, am I?" Jayne said, standing upright.

"Well, no, but I don't employ you." She sighed and shook her head. "Maybe I should, though. Keep this lot in check." She pointed at her men then down to the heap on the floor. "Don't just stand there. Clear 'em out of here, and make sure they don't come back."

"What happened?" Jayne asked, leaning on the counter and watching the moaning, twitching bodies being picked up and hurled, none too gently, into the street.

"They just got off a ship, at least that's what one of 'em said. And this wasn't the first place they came, either. Well fuelled by the time they got here. And thinking they could just take what they wanted without paying."

Jayne tutted. "That's criminal."

"It surely is." Francine looked at him. "And I mean it. You want a job?"

"Got one." He remembered his manners. "But thanks."

"No, I figured you'd …" She stopped, her face going pale even under the paint she wore.

"What?" He glanced at her, realised she was looking at his t-shirt beneath his jacket. At some point during the previous couple of minutes one of the buttons had been pulled off, and she could see the dark red of dried blood staining his clothes.

"What the hell have you been up to?" She went to touch him, but held back. "You need a doc? Or a priest?"

"Ain't mine."

"Then whose is it?"

He looked around, making sure everyone else was busy. Then he leaned closer. "Francine, I found the man that killed my friend."

"And you …" She closed her eyes and exhaled hard. "'M I likely to find Vance coming in here looking for you? 'Cause if he does –"

"No, you won't."

There was something in his voice that made her look sharply at him. "Are you saying –"

"Ain't saying nothing much. Just that you're pretty much the owner of this establishment now."

Francine, by no means unintelligent, let the implication sink in. "You sure it was him?"

"Heard him admitting it."

She shook her head. "Well, I hafta admit, I can't say I'm all that surprised. _Hwoon dahn_ always did like the quick and easy credit. Pulled enough out of this business to live well, but he always wanted more."

"He won't be taking anything else."

Her eyes narrowed a little, then she smiled grimly. "Then maybe I'll expand." Her good humour died. "But I want you gone from here, _dong mah_? Anyone might be coming looking for him finds you, I don't want it to be in my place."

"I understand. Few more hours, and my boat'll be here."

"Okay." She pulled his coat closed. "Best you burn those clothes if'n you can. Ain't gonna get the blood out."

"I been covered in worse."

She looked at him speculatively. "You know, God help me, but I believe you."

-

Hank landed Serenity back in the same spot as before, and couldn't help glancing over his shoulder as he switched off her main engines. Mal should be there, making some comment about how he hadn't managed to crash his ship, at least this time, and asking when he was going to get around to making Zoe an honest woman by marrying her. It felt … wrong, somehow.

He closed everything down and stood up. "Sorry," he whispered to no-one in particular. "Wish he was still around. Even miss him being annoying." He hurried down to wait with the others in the cargo bay.

Zoe was already opening the doors, and no-one was surprised to see the big man outside.

"Jayne."

"Zoe." The mercenary stepped up the ramp, something draped over his shoulder. "Everyone okay?"

"As well as you'd expect."

"And Frey?"

Zoe hesitated a moment. "Not good."

He looked down at his boots. "Well, what I got to give her might not help, but I couldn't really leave it behind."

"Give her what?"

"Zo." Hank's voice was low, insistent.

She turned, not surprised to see Freya coming out of the common area. "Jayne's here," she said, somewhat unnecessarily.

"So I see." Freya stopped a few feet from the big man. "Jayne."

"Frey." He could see she was standing straight, her back like a ramrod, not giving an inch, and close to falling apart.

"So? You find the man?"

Jayne nodded. "I did. And he ain't gonna bother no-one again. Neither him nor his doxy, the one as set Mal up."

"Thank you."

"Got his gun back, too. Mal's, I mean." He shrugged it from his shoulder and held it out to her.

"No. I don't … you keep it."

"Can't. Not mine."

"It's a good gun," Freya insisted. "Mal always looked after it."

"I know that, but –"

"I'll take it," Zoe said quickly. "I'll look after it for you."

Freya nodded slowly. She licked her lips. "Is there … was there any sign …"

"Nope. Sorry." Jayne, the part of him that had always had a soft spot for the woman in front of him, ached for her. "But I found this." He put out his hand, palm up.

For a long moment there was no sound, no movement, then Freya reached out and picked up the wedding band. "Mal …" she murmured. She stared at it, her mind skittering to the day Mal had bought it on Ariel, and told her to put it on him. The day she finally believed he was going to be hers forever. It lay on her skin shining in the light from outside Serenity and, despite all her efforts, she felt her world fracture into a million tiny, razor sharp pieces, all cutting into her, making her bleed.

"I'm sorry," Jayne said, knowing the words were useless.

"Thank you." She turned to leave, her eyes on the ring.

Hank stepped forward, glancing at the others. "Frey? What … what do you want us to do now?"

She hadn't heard, or if she had she ignored it. She walked slowly out of the bay.

No-one spoke until she was out of sight.

"It's real, ain't it?" Kaylee whispered, holding tightly to Simon's arm. "I guess maybe I didn't really believe it before, but … the Cap's gone."

"Seeing that ring …" Hank shook his head. "He'd never've let anyone take if off him unless he was dead."

"So?" Jayne asked. "What _do_ we do now?"

"Not sure," Zoe admitted.

"Does this make you captain?"

Zoe shook her head. "Ship's hers. I don't want … never wanted …" She felt her chest begin to tighten, but she swallowed back on the tears. There was a better place for them, later on. When she was alone. She took a deep breath. "It's getting late, so I think we'd better lock things down for the night. We need supplies, so soon as we get them tomorrow we'll take off."

"And go where?" Simon asked.

"Ain't got that figured yet," Zoe admitted. "Ain't got that figured at all."

"And Frey?" Hank turned to Sam. "Can you help her?"

"If she'll let me." The therapist glanced towards the common area. "She's a strong woman."

"Even oaks break in the wind," Kaylee said softly, wiping her eyes on her sleeve. "We gotta just keep an eye on her. Make sure we're there when she needs us."

"River is," Jayne added. "Got a message from her a day or two ago. She's watching Freya, much as she can. Says it hurts."

"We have to tell her. And Inara."

"Tomorrow," Zoe said firmly. "I'll do it tomorrow."

Jayne shook his head. "I'm figuring she knows already," he said softly.

-

The dress still fit, despite having carried two children. It flowed over her breasts and hips, clinging in all the right places, suspended by the single silver pin at her shoulder. She'd made up her face, just a little, adding colour where there was none. Now she sat on the bed, the bed she hadn't been able to sleep in since …

It had been simple getting what she needed from the infirmary. Simon and Kaylee were comforting each other, and everyone else was in their bunks, trying to rest. Not that it was going to come easily. Not yet. Not for a long time. But it had been the work of a moment to find the vial and hypo she needed and take them back to the bunk.

_The_ bunk. Not hers any more. Nor his. Just a place to be. To do this.

Her red recorder she'd placed on the table, on the single sheet of paper that said, simply, 'Kaylee'. She'd understand. Then the girl would know why she'd put Ethan and Jesse in with Bethany, kissing them both as they lay asleep. Why she'd left Mal's wedding ring on the shelf.

She filled the hypo carefully, enough for it to do the job, but not enough to cause the convulsions. She didn't want them to find her like that, all twisted. That wasn't fair.

_Freya?_

She lay down, arranging her dress carefully about her, putting her head down onto his pillow, trying to catch the last remaining scent of him.

_Freya!_

There, just on the edge of … A brief perfume, all leather and black powder, soap and … him. She held it in herself, absorbing every last molecule.

_Momma!_

As she put the hypo against her neck, she could hear River beating at the walls she'd erected around her mind, desperate to get in. Then the hiss of the gas, almost soothing, as the drug entered her bloodstream.

She knew she had a minute before she became unconscious, and, placing the hypo on the shelf, she took down the capture she had ready. Not the one from before, with Mal holding Ethan. But another. One she kept just for herself. She pressed play.

Laughter filled the small room as she and Mal appeared, him in that outfit Inara had made him buy, while she had on the very same dress she now wore. Their wedding, bright, shiny, smiling. He leaned in to kiss her, and as the darkness gathered around her, she could still feel his lips, pressing against hers …

The capture slipped from her unknowing fingers and clattered to the floor.

River screamed, sitting up in bed at Inara's, holding the sheets tightly to herself.

"Sweetie, what is it?" Inara called, hurrying in.

"No," the psychic moaned, sending her thoughts as hard as she could. _Jayne._

The big man sat up. "River?"

_Freya. Her bunk. Go. Go now!_

He was on his feet and out of the shuttle in a flash, running along the catwalk and into the corridor. The hatch above Freya's room was closed, locked, but it took only the work of a second to over-ride it. He slid down the ladder.

"Gorramit." He crossed the small space in two strides, treading on something that sparked and skittered away, then picked up the vial from the shelf, touching Freya gently with his other hand. He punched the com. "Doc. Get to Freya's. Captain's bunk. And bring something to deal with Comoxacil."

Simon was out of his bed in a moment, dragging on his pyjama pants and throwing the door open. Kaylee was behind him, pulling on her robe.

"Simon?"

"It's a poison," he said briefly, running to the infirmary.


	12. Chapter 12

It was the longest two minutes of Jayne's life. Sitting next to Freya, holding her hand, hearing her breathing getting slower, shallower. He couldn't look at her, at the almost smile on her face.

At last Simon dropped through the hole and took his place. He felt her skin, checking her pulse. "Show me," he said.

Jayne held out the vial.

"Damn it." He put the hypo he'd brought with him against her neck and plunged it home.

"We in time?" Jayne asked, seeing the others come down the ladder after him, crowding into the small space.

"I don't … No!" He shouted, tugging the pin from the shoulder of Freya's dress and pulling the front down, exposing her breasts.

"Simon …" Kaylee protested quietly.

"Her heart's stopped." The young doctor swiftly opened the other pack he'd brought with him, thrusting the needle between her ribs and injecting it as he felt it puncture the pericardium.

Kaylee thrust her hand into her mouth to stop from screaming as he withdrew the needle and began CPR.

They waited. Waited with no sound but the hard air Simon was forcing into her lungs, urging her to breathe on her own, counting between each one. Waited for an eternity.

Then a ragged noise. The noise of someone drawing a breath unwillingly.

Her eyes fluttered open, and she tried to focus. A man. Sitting next to her, his hands on her flesh … but it wasn't him. Not him.

"No!" she cried out, barely whispering as she realised they hadn't let her leave, wouldn't let her go to him. She rolled over, away from them, bringing her knees up to her naked chest as she sobbed with despair.

In the small house by the beach, the sleeping man reached out, trying to grasp something, pull it into the safety of his embrace, even as the woman next to him dried his tears.

-

Kaylee was shaking so hard she could hardly play the recording. They were all in the galley, all except Simon, who was sitting with Freya in the infirmary, checking no permanent damage had been done by the poison.

"Go ahead," Zoe said softly.

With trembling fingers the young mechanic pressed play, and Freya's voice filled the room. "_I know this is distressing, but I want to be with Mal. I can't go on without him, and I don't want to. He's my life, and without him I have nothing to live for. Kaylee, look after Ethan and Jesse. Tell them, when they're older, why I had to do this, but let them know it wasn't because I don't love them. I do. But without their father I'm nothing. Tell Zoe the ship is hers. Be good to her. And don't cry for me. I'm going to be with the man who loves me._" The recording cut off.

"Should we have done … what we did?" Kaylee asked, tears rolling down her face. "She … this wasn't no cry for help. She meant to do this."

"I know." Zoe's voice was low, inflectionless.

"How could she leave those kids?" Hank asked, staring at her. "Knowing what they're gonna go through?"

Sam stirred. "I don't think she was thinking about that."

"How do we help her?" Kaylee wiped at her cheeks with her sleeve.

"We stay with her. Someone has to be with her at all times." Sam assumed the mantle of therapist, pushing his own feelings of guilt at not being able to stop this under the surface.

"You think she'll try again?" Jayne growled.

"Yes. I'm afraid she might."

"I can make a rota," Kaylee offered. "Won't be hard."

"And remove anything she could use to … anything sharp. Or poisonous."

"We can do that," Hank said, nodding at Zoe. "I figure Simon's already got the bad stuff locked up by now."

"What about Ethan?" At Zoe's words everyone stopped moving, talking, almost breathing. "He knows."

"So does Bethie," Kaylee admitted. "They want to go to her."

"I'll talk to them," Sam said. "Explain."

"That their mother tried to kill herself 'cause their father's dead?" Jayne couldn't help the scathing note in his voice. "And how are you planning on doing that?" he asked. "I'm interested."

"They understand."

"Hell, I don't." Zoe stood up. "It's getting light. Jayne, get the supplies we need. And you'd better cancel that reward. Kaylee, make up the rota to watch Frey. Hank, warm Serenity over. The sooner we're off this damn rock the better."

-

Hannah drove the small three-wheeler into town, her mind elsewhere. Ben was looking after the children, under protest since he considered he was well enough to accompany her, but she knew they were safe with him. When he'd woken that morning, she asked him what he'd been dreaming about.

"Dreaming?" He shook his head. "I didn't think I was."

"You … called out. During the night. Something seemed to be disturbing you."

He tried to remember. "I … just a dream, I guess."

"Yeah." She was glad he didn't remember – the look on his face while the dream had hold of him made her heart ache.

She parked outside the general store, picking up her basket and stepping into the mud. It looked like the thaw had truly set in, and all around there was the sound of dripping as the snow melted. She hurried inside, but found there was something of a queue.

"Hey, Hannah," said the woman in front of her. "Not seen you in an age."

"Hi, Trudy. Well, you know how it is. We get cut off every year." She smiled at her friend. "Not that the kids mind."

"How are they?"

"Shiny. Growing." She looked in front of them to the hold-up at the counter. "What's going on?" She could see a big man standing there, seeming to fill the store all by himself.

"Something to do with a reward," Trudy said. "I was trying to listen but they were keeping it down."

The woman in front of her half-turned. "Something about a man being lost, and he put up a reward for any sighting of him. Went into the river, 'parrently."

"Our river?" Trudy shook her head. "Nothing comes out of there alive."

"Not when it's been shot, no."

"Shot?" Now it was Hannah's turn to ask.

"So I gather." The woman leaned in, obviously having heard a lot more than she could keep to herself. "He says the woman, this man's wife, tried to kill herself last night."

"Did she manage it?"

"Nah. They got to her in time."

"Why'd she do that?" Trudy scoffed. "Plenty more men out there."

"Ain't you never been in love?"

"Not like that, I guess not."

"Not likely to find you hanging from the rafters, then?"

"Nope. Him, maybe, but not me." They laughed, but Hannah didn't join in.

In front of them the big man handed over a slip of paper, and the store owner shouted, "Grange! Get this together!" A young boy darted out and took it, heading for the other side of the shop.

The woman who had imparted all the information turned again. "They're leaving soon as they get their stuff," she informed the other two.

"Leaving?" Hannah repeated.

"That's what he said."

She stared at the big man's back as he moved away from the counter. Leaving. Maybe not coming back. And that meant that Ben … no. He wasn't staying anyway. He'd said. She turned on her heel and hurried out, hearing Trudy call to her.

"Hannah? Don't you need some things?"

She didn't answer, the door swinging to behind her.

-

"She okay?" Kaylee asked as Simon stepped out of the infirmary to join her.

"Well, the poison's out of her system, but I don't think okay is a word I'd use to describe her right now."

"But she's going to live."

"Yes." He rubbed his hand over his face. "But we can't let her be on her own."

"I won't," Kaylee said firmly, looking in at the woman lying so still on the medbed. "Sam made it clear. But I still can't believe –"

"Kaylee, if you died, I'd be hard-pressed to even consider going on without you."

She looked at him, saw the total truth in his statement, and had to smile a little. "I feel the same way, ya know that, don't you?"

"I do." He sighed and put his head back, rolling his neck.

"Tired?"

"If I fall asleep standing up, just leave me, okay?"

"Okay." Kaylee put her arms around him, holding him tightly and feeling him return the embrace. "We gotta make sure she gets better," she said softly, not needing to explain who she was talking about.

"I'm trying."

"I know that. And Sam's gonna talk to her." She looked up into his face. "Maybe if we can stay on Lazarus for a while, it might help."

"I'm not sure anything will, _bao bei_. Except time."

"It's just I can't bear seeing her hurting like this."

"I know." He sighed in her ear. "I wish I could do something."

"You are. We all are. Just being here."

"I wish I could do more." He sounded so unhappy, and the pain and frustration showed in his face.

"Oh, Simon …"

-

Jayne heard the voices behind him, but wasn't really listening. He stood studying the various gifts on display, his brow furrowed slightly. Maybe he should get something for River, something for her to wear, or just to keep. Something pretty, perhaps, to go with her eyes. Or another gun, maybe. Or something for the baby.

He exhaled. How the hell was a man expected to make up his mind about something like this? Maybe he should just go with his first thought. Some pretty slippers, perhaps. But then she preferred to go barefoot. 'Sides, being pregnant made women's ankles swell, didn't it? He was sure he could remember his Ma complaining about just that very thing when she was heavy with Matty. So maybe …

Nope. Better to wait and ask her. Get some kind of idea, anyway.

"Sir?" The boy named Grange was standing next to him, a large, full box at his feet.

"All there?" Jayne asked, pulling his mind together.

"Yes sir."

"Good." He fished some notes from his pocket and handed them over. "Nice doing business with you."

"Thank you, sir." The boy nodded and hurried back behind the counter.

Picking up the box, and not able to resist giving the ladies waiting to be served a fair sight of his muscles flexing, he walked out into the daylight.

Hannah watched from across the street, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. She hadn't planned on staying, but her conscience was pricking at her like a thousand tiny needles against her skin. This was Ben's friend, or at least maybe it was. And she owed it to him to find out for sure.

Following the big man easily through the streets to the docks, she watched him striding towards a ship that sat snugly on the cold soil, seeming to barely feel the weight of the box in his arms. He didn't even break rhythm as he went inside.

For a long moment she stood, considering all the possibilities, then she shook herself. No matter that she was wishing she could just run, go home, say nothing, keep him in her bed, in her arms, in her life, she'd never forgive herself if she didn't find out if this was where he was supposed to be.

She walked up the ramp into the seemingly empty cargo bay.

The big man stepped out behind her. "What do you want?" Jayne asked, his voice gruff, hard.

She span on her heel. "I …"

"Knew you were trailing me. What for?" He looked her up and down. "Come on. Spit it out. You looking for work? 'Cause we ain't got none."

"No, not work." She rubbed her hands together as if they were cold. "I heard you were looking for a man, went into the river a while back."

Jayne took a step towards her, then stopped. She looked like she wanted to run, and if she had news of Mal, where he was buried … "That's right," he said, trying to ease his tone, be more gentle with her. "Our captain. Name of Mal Reynolds."

"Mal …" She stood still, indecisive.

"So?" Jayne prompted. "You heard something about him?" He took another step forward. "You looking for the reward? 'Cause it was for finding his body, not just –"

She backed up, afraid of him. "No. Nothing. Just … nothing."

"What do you know?" asked a dark woman, standing on the catwalk above them, her hand on the gun at her hip.

"Nothing," she repeated, insistent now.

"She does," Jayne said, staring at the woman, reading the indecision in her face.

Zoe nodded slowly, walking down the stairs towards her. "Look, we ain't gonna hurt you. This man, he was our captain. His wife is in here right now, grieving, and we can't give her any sort of closure. If you know what happened to him, where his body is –"

"He ain't dead."

Jayne's jaw dropped and he couldn't help the grunt that came from his lips.

"Not …" Zoe tried to hold onto her composure. "What do you mean?"

"I found him. If it's the same man. On the beach. Took him in. Patched his hurts."

"He's alive?"

"He was shot. Got a head wound too, and I guess that's why he ain't … look, how do I know it's the same man?"

Jayne reached slowly into his jacket and pulled out a picture. It was one he'd left with the storeowner to show people in case a body turned up, taken from the recording Hank had made of Kaylee's wedding. The real one. Always weddings, he thought idly. The Cap surely didn't like having his picture took otherwise. He handed it over.

Hannah took it and stared, her heart sinking.

"Well?" Zoe asked. "Is it him?"

She wanted to say no, to say it was a different man, not the husband of the woman who couldn't live without him. Not this man laughing and holding tight to a woman with short brown hair. Who was looking up at him with such love in her eyes.

"If it's him how come he ain't come back? Waved us?" Jayne wanted to know.

"He doesn't know," Hannah said softly.

"What?" Zoe glanced up at the big man. "What do you mean?"

"He doesn't know who he is. We've … I called him Ben … my husband's name. He doesn't know who he … his name's Mal?"

"Where is he?" Zoe asked, stepping forward and taking the other woman's arm in a steely grip.

"My place. Down the river. Please, you're hurting me."

Zoe let go reluctantly. "Jayne, get the mule down."

The big man nodded and hurried with the chains.

"Did she … did his wife really try to …" Hannah couldn't finish.

"She did," Zoe admitted.

"Why?"

"Love."

"When my husband died, I never … I mean, I loved him, with all my heart, but I never thought to end it. Not with two small children."

"They have two children as well," Zoe said quietly. "A boy named Ethan, and a baby, Jesse. They both love them dearly. But what they have between them … goes beyond that."

Hannah nodded. "I understand."

"We gonna tell the others?" Jayne asked, manhandling the hovermule into position.

"No." Zoe shook her head. "Not yet. Might not be him."

"Be a hell of a coincidence if it ain't."

"Just get Simon. If Mal was hurt –"

Jayne nodded, then looked around. "_Tzao gao_," he swore. "Where'd she go?" There was no sign of the woman.

"Find her," Zoe ordered. "I'll be right behind you."

He didn't even wait to acknowledge her, just slipped out of the cargo bay. It didn't take much to find the woman's footprints in the soft earth, and he was back in the centre of town in time to see her climb onboard a three-wheeled vehicle and pull away. He ran after her.


	13. Chapter 13

"See?" Sam said, looking down at the little boy next to him. "I told you she's okay."

Ethan had his thumb in his mouth, biting on the pad. "'Kay." He didn't sound convinced, even though he was staring into the infirmary at his mother.

Sam sighed, bending down and lifting the boy onto his hip. He hadn't had much to do with small children for a while, not since his daughter was little. Even visiting her and being made to hold her babies hadn't prepared him for the experience of dealing with children like those on board Serenity. "Ethan, we're doing what we can."

"Misses Daddy." His voice was indistinct.

"Yes, she does."

The boy looked at Sam, his blue eyes piercing, full of sadness. "Doesn't want us."

"No, Ethan, that's not the case," Sam assured him. He looked around, saw the yellow sofa against the wall and went to sit down. Ethan climbed into his lap, holding onto his silk shirt with a tiny fist. "She loves you. Both of you. But she's hurting so much that she can't see how much she loves you, and we have to remind her."

"How?"

"We talk to her. Tell her how much we care. That she's not alone."

"Make it stop hurting?"

He nodded. "We'll try. But it won't stop for a long time."

"But we'll be here." Ethan's little face was hopeful. "Can I tell her now?"

Sam glanced into the infirmary, where Simon was adjusting a drip into Freya's arm, and Kaylee had hold of her hand. "In a little while. Why don't you tell me what you want to say?"

"Want my Mama." He bit his lip as a tear ran down his cheek. "Want to tell her Ethan loves her."

Sam felt a knot tighten in his chest, and he took a deep breath, pledging silently to do all he could for this boy's mother. "That's –"

Zoe leaned in the doorway. "Doc!" she shouted.

Simon hurried into the common area. "What is it? Someone hurt?"

"Not sure. Grab your bag." She was gone in a swirl of leather waistcoat.

"Honey?" Kaylee watched as her husband grabbed his medkit. "What is it?"

"I don't know." He looked into her puzzled eyes. "Keep an eye on Freya." Then he turned and ran into the cargo bay.

Kaylee looked at Sam. "Any idea what's going on?"

He shook his head. "None. Perhaps we should ask Hank if he –" The sound of the hovermule leaving the cargo bay interrupted him.

"'S a secret," Bethany said as she ran in from the lower crew quarters. "But keeping everything crossed." She held up her hands, her fingers in a tangle.

-

Hannah had her foot down as far as possible, but the small vehicle had never had much power, and slogging across the wet ground slowed it even more. Willing it on, she was arguing with herself as she drove.

"Shouldn't've run," she muttered. "But they're wrong. It's not him. I know it's not him." She negotiated a fallen tree. "Can't be him. Won't let it be." But she knew she was wrong, and wondered if maybe she'd lost her mind. "And if it is, he deserves someone better. Someone not willing to give up." Damn. Now she was lying even to herself. Maybe she ought to turn around, go back to town. Find them again. Although they were probably looking for her right –

The front tyre exploded and she pitched forwards, banging her head on the steering wheel. Hands grabbed her, pulling her out of the vehicle. She blinked hard as she attempted to clear her eyes of the darkness trying to encroach, managing to focus on the figure in front.

"Well, well, if it ain't Ms Tebril." Truman Kruse, Kendall's second in command, smiled coldly at her.

"Let me go!" Hannah said, beginning to fight against the men holding her.

"Mr Kendall's gonna be pleased we got you, though that ain't gonna stop him going after that man of yours."

She froze. "Ben?"

"That his name? Then yeah. The boss don't like being threatened, least of all by a lone man. Don't do his rep any good, know what I mean?"

"What are you talking about?" Her voice was hoarse.

"At your place right now. Gonna make an example of him."

She paled. "My children are there."

Kruse shrugged, unconcerned. "So?"

Hannah struggled even harder, pulling one arm free and kicking at the one still holding her. Kruse hit her, the flat of his hand leaving a bright red mark on her face, even as his companion grabbed at Hannah's arms again.

She glared at him. "Bastard!"

"Now, that's not nice. I think maybe I need to teach you some manners." He ran his fingers down her cheek, continuing down to cup her breast through her dress and coat.

She struggled, but couldn't get loose. "Leave me alone!" she shouted.

"Scream all you like, Hannah," Kruse said softly, leaning towards her. "No-one's gonna hear you."

"No?" Jayne rose up from behind a bush like a devil from a trapdoor and fired, the bullet hitting Kruse in the temple. The man jerked back, blood and grey matter spraying from where his head more or less exploded. "Thought so." He was so pissed he didn't even attempt to wound the others, just firing until the men were down and dead, with not even one gun having cleared a holster. "I hate this gorram planet," he grumbled as he walked forward. "It ain't got a single redeeming feature."

Hannah stared at him, shocked into immobility. "How …" She couldn't get more words out.

"Followed ya. You okay?" he asked, taking her arm. "You ain't hit or nothing?"

"N … no," she stammered. Then realisation hit. "God. No." She pulled herself free, her face white as a sheet. "My children!" she shouted, running through the trees, even as Jayne heard the mule coming up behind them.

"Jayne!" Zoe called, and the big man was after her, grabbing her around the waist.

"Let me go!"

"Ain't gonna do that. We _all_ go," he grunted, swinging her up onto the mule as Zoe brought it abreast of them, Simon helping her into a seat.

-

He gathered the wood into his arms, feeling the wound in his belly pulling a little, but not paining him. It felt good to be outside, and the cold air was pleasant. Spring was a ways off yet, but it made an interesting change to be on the ground enjoying the winter respite instead of … His eyes narrowed as he tried to remember. Instead of … where? Where else would he be if not on the ground?

It was there, his memory, the truth of it if only he could reach it. But as he tried to grasp it, the images floated away like leaves on the tide. It frustrated him, knowing that who he was, what he was, kept eluding him.

"Ben?" Jonah called. "You want some coffee?"

He smiled at the boy over his shoulder. "That'd be good."

Jonah grinned and brought out a mug to him, putting it down on the windowsill. "Thought you'd say that."

He put the wood back down and ruffled the boy's hair. "Thanks. 'Though should you be handling the boiling water without supervision?"

Jonah pushed his hair flat again, and gave him a familiar look, composed mainly of exasperation at the density of adults, with a healthy dose of at least _trying_ to be patient. "I'm nearly ten."

He laughed. "My apologies, then. You'll be out working before long, with that beard you'll be having soon."

"I'm not the one with the beard," Jonah pointed out.

"No, maybe not." He stroked the face fur. "But at least I'm old enough to grow it."

"Looks only fair to middling."

"What?" He pretended umbrage.

Jonah grinned. "Needs filling in."

He grabbed for the boy but he skipped away. "You just come back here, young man."

"Catch me!" Jonah half-crouched, waiting to see which way he'd go.

Chuckling, he feinted in one direction, then took the other around the stack of logs, catching Jonah and getting hold of him before he could duck out. He started to tickle him, holding him firmly as the boy giggled and tried to get away.

"Stop, stop!" Jonah begged.

"Nope. Not 'til you apologise for dissing my beard. I think it looks manly."

Jonah could hardly speak for laughing, beginning to hiccup too. "Sorry! I'm sorry! It's a great beard! Honest!"

"Better." He was laughing himself, hearing the blood pounding in his ears. Only it wasn't his blood. He stopped. Something was coming. "Ethan, run in the house," he said quietly, putting the boy down and grabbing the rifle waiting by the chopping block.

"My name's not –"

"Go!" He pushed him. "Get your sister and hide!"

Jonah ran into the house and slammed the door behind him.

-

"Please hurry!" Hannah begged, leaning forward in the mule as the dark woman navigated. "My children …"

"We'll get there," the young man she didn't know assured her, holding onto her in case she tried to jump out of the vehicle.

"Zoe." The big man was listening hard.

"I heard."

"What?" Hannah froze. "Oh God." Now she heard what they had. Gunfire, up ahead.

-

Horses, moving around in the undergrowth. He could hear them, even as the rest of his senses told him there were guns trained on him. A thrill across the back of his neck made him drop to the ground an instant before a bullet splintered the wooden wall right where his head had been. Crawling swiftly, he made it to behind the woodpile, taking shelter as more shots were fired. He heard the breaking of window glass, and prayed that the children were doing what he'd said, and hiding.

"Enough!" a voice called, one he recognised all too well. The shooting stopped.

"Kendall?" he shouted.

"Glad to see you remember me." Kendall sounded amused.

"'Bout all I do remember."

"Really? Sorry about that, Ben. That's your name, right? What Hannah calls you? Well, Ben, I can assure you your lack of memory won't be a problem for you much longer."

"Oh? You planning on being civilised and leaving?"

A laugh echoed eerily through the trees. "No. Unless being civilised means nailing your hide to that there wall once I've skinned it off your corpse."

"Not in any world I've ever seen, no."

"Then let's not kid ourselves. I'm aiming to kill you."

"Man should have ambition." He ratcheted a shell into the chamber. "Even if it don't come to anything."

A bullet whipped out of the trees and buried itself in a log not two inches from him.

"Damn it, I said stop!" Kendall roared. "I'll tell you when to fire!" His voice continued, back to the conversational level of before. "Sorry about that."

"Right."

"So why don't you come out from behind there and so I can shoot you?"

"You know, I seem to recall hearing those words from someone before." For a moment he had a flash of yellow sand, some kind of vehicle with enormous wheels, and … "_Cao_," he whispered as it went again.

"Did you shoot him? I only ask as he obviously didn't shoot you."

"Wish I could tell you." He glanced towards the house. "Kendall, there's kids inside. If this is between you and me, maybe we should do it someplace else. Away from here."

"You think I care?"

"Honestly, no. Just thought you might like to play the gentleman before I kill you."

"Well, there's eight of us and one of you. I like those odds."

"I don't." He lifted up to his knees and fired at the movement he'd seen as he peered between two logs, and there was a cry from the trees. "Seven to one. Getting better," he called, dropping back down.

"Fisher?" Kendall shouted.

A different voice answered. "He's dead, boss."

There was a pause, then Kendall spoke again. "I thought you'd lost your memory."

He had to smile. "I have. But not how to shoot."

"No. I figured that one out." Kendall's voice was dry.

"You know, I've a notion this ain't fair." He peered through the gap again. "Like you said, there's more of you than me, yet you're hiding. How come? Why don't you just try to rush me? Who knows, you might be lucky and get me 'fore I get all of you."

"That's true," Kendall agreed. "But I'm waiting."

"Waiting? For what?"

A scrabbling noise behind and above him gave him the answer. Rolling onto his back, he lifted the rifle, taking only a split second to register the man on the roof of the house before he fired. The man dropped his gun and cried out, his hands grabbing at his chest as he fell. The body landed next to the woodpile and lay still.

Gunfire erupted from the trees again and he rolled back under cover, hunkering down as a hail of bullets bit into the logs, throwing up a storm of splinters. This time, though, Kendall didn't seem disposed to stop it.

He checked the rifle. Five more bullets, not nearly enough to get them all, even if they were kind enough to stand still while he fired at them. Still, if he could take some of them out, that'd be a blessing, especially if he could get them away from the house and the kids inside.

The kids … God, no. He glanced at the body next to him and felt his heart speed up even more. If this man had got behind, come up over the roof, there was nothing to stop someone …

"Kendall!" A voice from inside the house.

His heart sank.

"Yeah?"

"Got 'em!"

Kendall laughed. "Seems like the tide just turned in my favour, Ben. So why don't you drop that gun and come on out into the open. 'Fore my man takes it into his head to do something to those children?"

He closed his eyes, opening then quickly as he heard the door hinges creak. A man appeared, Jonah and Rachel in front of him, held tightly one in each hand.

"Ben?" Jonah said, his eyes frightened.

"It's okay," he said, trying to smile for him. "I won't let them hurt you." He put the gun down on the ground, very carefully, and slowly stood up. He turned towards the trees. "Okay, Kendall. You win. Just let them go." He raised his hands.

Kendall stepped out from the trees, his men following him. He had a wide grin on his face. "Seems like my ambition's about to be realised." He moved closer, pulling a knife from the sheath at his belt and running a finger tenderly along the razor-sharp edge. "You know what I said about your hide?" He grinned. "I meant every word." He nodded at two of his men. "Hold him."

He didn't struggle against the hands on his arms, pulling them behind his back, just saying, "Let the children go. If you're going to do this, they don't have to see."

"Except maybe they should. It's never too late to learn who's in charge." Kendall used the point of the knife to snick away the top button of his captive's shirt, then the second. "To learn what the losing side feels like."

"The …" He grabbed at the memory, but the blade of the knife running down three inches of his exposed chest and leaving a thin line of blood wiped it away from his mind.

"I'm gonna enjoy this," Kendall whispered, just as a gun roared from his right. The man holding Jonah and Rachel fell, not a sound issuing from the mess of his throat, then more gunshots. The boy pulled his sister inside as Kendall's men scattered. The man himself crouched down, the knife falling from his fingers as he pulled his pistol. "_Hwoon dahn_," he grunted.

Three distinct weapons. He could hear their differences, even as he used all his strength to tug his arms free, pulling the men holding him around, kicking at unprotected knees and groins, ignoring the flare from the barely healed wound in his belly. But he was too slow. He saw Kendall aim at him, and knew he couldn't move fast enough to get out of the way, waiting for the pain to come before the blast reached his ears.

A Mare's Leg. All his life, if it lasted beyond the next five seconds, he knew he'd remember that sound. He had no idea how he knew it was a Mare's Leg, but as the bullet it fired caught Kendall high in the chest, he began to believe maybe his life might last minutes. And as he watched the remainder of Kendall's men run as they saw their leader go down, he was hit by the possibility of years.

Which he rapidly revised down as he saw the people who'd been shooting come out of the undergrowth. He scooped up the rifle and aimed it at them, his finger tightening on the trigger.

"Ben, no."

He was shocked to see Hannah with them, held by someone who seemed to blot out the sun. "Let her go," he ordered.

"She ain't being detained," the big man said. "'Cept she was gonna run in and likely get herself shot."

"Then let her go."

The man mountain released her and she ran to his side. "Jonah? Rachel?" she asked fearfully.

"Inside. Safe. You'd better go join them." He took out the slack,

"Ben, stop. They … they've come for you. To take you home."

He stared at her. "What?"

The woman in the group moved forward. "Mal?" she said.

"You just stay right there," he called, gesturing with the gun, then felt something jolt through him. "What did you call me?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

"Mal." The woman took a step closer. Tall, dark, long curly hair, and very … very familiar. "That's your name. Malcolm Reynolds."

The gun didn't waver, but he looked up at the two men behind her. How did he know them? One of them was the big guy, the other slighter, dark almost black hair, but still … He looked back at the woman. "How do you know me?"

"You're my captain. Your ship is Serenity. She's a Firefly. And waiting for you right now, back home, is your wife. Her name's –"

"Freya." The knowledge of who he was, what he was, hit him like a speeding train, knocking all the wooliness out of his brain, piercing his soul with a flash of self awareness.

"Captain?" Zoe said, putting out one hand to lower the rifle, just in case he pulled the trigger without realising.

He looked at her. "Zoe?"

"That's me, sir," she said, smiling hugely.

Hannah could only watch as Ben … no, _Mal_ dropped the rifle and pulled the woman into a hug, which she returned ten fold. The two men clapped each other on the back, grinning widely, laughing while her heart was breaking.


	14. Chapter 14

"You did a good job," Simon said, pulling Mal's shirt back down. "A bigger scar than the ones he's been used to lately, but it can't have been easy."

"No." Hannah was standing stiffly, her arms wrapped around herself.

"And the cut will heal well. It isn't deep. Probably not even leave much of a scar at all."

"I've got enough of those already," Mal said, smiling a little.

"I know. I've sutured more than I care to consider." He dropped the detritus of his examination back in his bag.

"Watch it, doctor," Mal added, the smile growing. "Or I might consider you're not happy to have me back."

"There were times I'd rather …" Simon stopped. "No. I am glad." He pinked up a little. "But I think it's time we got back to Serenity. Freya's waiting." He bit his lip. "Mal, there's something I need to –"

"Can it wait a minute?"

"Well, I …" Simon began, then saw the look that passed between them. "Of course. I'll … be outside in the mule." He hurried out to where Zoe and Jayne were finishing cleaning up.

Mal stood up, pushing his shirt back into his pants. "I'm sorry," he said, smiling sadly at her. "I wish I could be the man you wanted."

She nodded. "I know." A tear slipped down her cheek. "But you've got a family waiting for you. You'd best get …" She couldn't stop the sob that broke out of her.

Suddenly Mal was standing close to her, holding her, his arms about her trembling body. "Shh," he whispered. "Shh."

"Don't go," she said through her weeping. "Stay here with us. Please, Ben."

"Ain't Ben," he said regretfully. "Never was."

"But we need you." She leaned back to look into his blue eyes, so tender. "_I_ need you."

"Maybe you do." He pushed the tears away with his fingers. "But I got a wife who needs me too. And more importantly, I need her. I love her, Hannah. With all my soul."

"Don't you care for me at all?"

He sighed. "I do. I care a lot. And if Frey wasn't there, wasn't waiting for me to come home, maybe …" He stroked her hair back. "But she is. I can feel her, Hannah. In here." He tapped his temple. "And she loves me."

"More than me?"

He nodded slowly. "Yes," he said simply.

She looked at him, his face so understanding, so gentle, and pushed him away. "Then you'd best be getting to her. And tell her from me she's lucky."

Mal smiled. "No, Hannah. I'm the lucky one." He glanced towards the bedroom, knowing Jonah and Rachel were inside. "Tell them goodbye from me."

"Don't you want to –"

"No. It's hard enough without … just tell them …" He couldn't finish.

She nodded. "Will you be back?"

He shrugged. "I … I don't know."

"Then you won't." She managed a smile. "Go on. Better get home. Your wife'll be wondering where you are."

"Hannah –"

"Go." She pushed him gently.

"Thanks," he said, backing away towards the door. "I mean it."

"I know." She smiled wider. "Go on. Git. I got work to do."

He grinned at her, his hair flopping over his blue eyes, and was gone.

She stared at the door then slid to her knees, tears welling from her eyes as the sound of the hovermule got more distant.

"Momma?" Jonah called, opening the door to the bedroom a little, Rachel next to him.

She held out her arms to them, and they ran to her, hugging her tightly as the silence surged back in.

-

She was waiting. Standing at the bottom of the ramp, the breeze blowing through her hair, her eyes alive, yearning. She knew Kaylee, Hank and Sam were standing behind her, but she never glanced back, even once. She heard the hover before she ever saw it, and watched as it came into view.

_See_, said River in her mind_, I told you._

Freya smiled as the vehicle came to a stop a few yards away, her eyes not leaving the man in the front seat. She'd felt it, at the very moment he'd said her name, that flash of his existence, burning into her mind, recreating the link between them, giving her her life back. She'd astonished Kaylee and Sam by sitting up on the medbed and laughing. And now he was home.

He leaped from the mule and strode across to her, taking hold of her. "Are you crazy?" he asked angrily, holding her at arm's length. "Simon told me what you did … what you tried to do!" He shook her roughly.

She didn't care. He was here. He was in front of her, touching her, his hand on her shoulders, alive. "Mal …" she whispered, smiling through her tears.

"How could you do that?" His anger was so bright it was almost outshining the sun. His grip tightened and he knew he was leaving bruises.

She welcomed it, the pain, knowing it was him, his fingers, his rage breathing sensation back into her. "I thought you were dead. I couldn't feel you. I thought you were gone."

"Frey, I come back. I always come back to you." He glared at her. "Don't you know this by now? Hasn't that got into your tiny little mind, you _sha gua chun zi_?"

He was insulting her and she didn't mind. She laughed, and it melted the fury in him. "Mal, I love you," she said, reaching out to him.

"God, Frey," he moaned, pulling her into him, feeling their bodies blending, their souls wrapped around each other. "Please don't. Whatever happens, please don't. I couldn't bear it."

She was crying, laughing, hardly able to breathe because he was holding her so tightly, one hand in her hair, the other pulling her even closer, and she didn't care. He was _here_.

Behind them, Kaylee and Hank were hugging, jumping up and down in their excitement, Sam grinning wide enough to split his face.

"See," said Bethany, holding Ethan's hand. "I told you he was home."

Mal and Freya turned, seeing the little girl, but mostly seeing their son standing next to her. She let go and he ran out, down the ramp towards his parents.

"Daddy!" he shouted.

Mal went down onto his heels, scooping him up. "Ethan!"

Freya was hiccupping now, her happiness bubbling over, holding them both.

Ethan stroked his father's face, his little hand brushing over the beard on his cheeks. "Daddy," he whispered. "You're home."

Mal grinned. "That's right. I'm home."

-

Hank checked the autopilot one last time, then leaned back, closing his eyes.

"Tired?" Zoe asked, coming up behind him on the bridge.

"Pretty much."

"Here." She put her hands on his shoulders and began to massage his neck.

"Oh, that is good." He sighed in pleasure. "If you could bottle this I'd sell it on the Cortex and make my fortune."

"I thought you were going to do that with those books you're writing?" Zoe reminded him.

"Them too. Once I finish them."

"How many have you got on the go at the moment?" she asked, letting her hands wander down his chest a little.

"Oh, only about … about three." His breath caught as she lightly scratched his nipple. "I threw the others out. They were crap."

"And these ones aren't?"

"No. These are good. It's kind of a series, about this warrior woman who takes pity on a poor slob of a pilot and lets him take her to bed."

"So lots of sex."

"Oh, yeah, lots of that."

Her lips twitched. "And you were thinking of doing more research?"

"Depends. Is Ben down for the night?"

"He is."

"Come here." He took hold of her wrists and pulled her around until she was sitting in his lap. "We've been through a lot these past few weeks, ain't we?"

"A hell of a way to start the year," she agreed, running her fingers through his untidy brown hair.

"Think it's gonna get better?"

"I'd hate to think it's going to get worse."

"You know, from what Jayne said, I'm surprised we left anyone alive back there on Three Hills."

"There certainly does seem to be a high body count." They'd dropped the corpses of Kendall and the other men they'd killed into the river, not wanting Hannah to have to explain anything. Besides, it seemed fitting somehow.

"Think that Hannah's gonna be all right?"

Zoe looked into his grey eyes, seeing the honest concern for another human being in them. "She'll be okay. She's got her children."

"But Frey –"

She kissed him softly, successfully derailing that train of thought. "Hank, I locked the door."

"What?" She watched as realisation dawned and his eyes widened. "Oh."

"Mmn," she confirmed.

"Why didn't you say?" He grinned and pulled her down to him.

-

Down in the cargo bay Sam and Jayne were sharing a cigar, preparatory to turning in for the night.

"Used to do this with the Shepherd," the big mercenary admitted. "We'd work out, then have a cigar."

"You know they're not really good for you, don't you?" Sam said.

"Don't see you saying no."

"That's true." Sam took a deep breath. "Besides, these are pretty fine."

"Last of my stash. Been saving 'em for a special occasion, and figure this is it. Hafta get some more, though."

"Then you'd better let me pay for them."

"Nah. They gotta be enjoyed by someone. Might as well be you."

"Why … thank you, Jayne."

"S'okay." They sat in companionable silence for a moment. "So Frey gonna be okay now?"

Sam nodded slowly. "We're going to talk. She's asked me if I'll … of course I said yes. But I think now Mal's home she's going to be okay."

"But not right away?"

If Sam was surprised by the mercenary's insight, he didn't show it. "There will be bad days. Guilt feelings. Possibly nightmares of what might have been. But she'll get over it."

"She's strong."

"That she is." Sam blew a perfect blue smoke ring. "You really like her, don't you?"

"We got a lot in common, doc. I mean, not that I plan on sleeping with the Cap, you understand, but … we know each other. Maybe once I might've thought of taking her to bed, but … it was always Mal."

"For her."

"Oh, yeah." Jayne growled a laugh. "'Sides, not sure what River'd say if I came out and said I'd turned sly and had feelings for the Cap."

"You know that sort of thing is perfectly natural, don't you?" Sam said, winding him up a little. "Even for a hot-blooded individual like yourself."

"Not in a million years, doc, and I'd be careful who you go suggesting that to. If'n I weren't feeling full of the milk of human kindness right now – and some of Kaylee's finest brew – I might show you just how natural that kind of thing is."

"Why, Mr Cobb, are you propositioning me?"

Jayne glared at him, saw the little laughter lines around his eyes. "You know, the sooner we get you back to Inara and that regular sexing I'm sure you do, the better."

"And you to River."

"Even better," the big man agreed. Blowing out one last cloud of smoke, he stood up, grinding out the glowing end of his cigar on the cradle of his weights. "And talking of which, I'm to my bunk. That little vixen of mine sent me a personal wave a few hours ago, and I think I'm gonna go watch it in private."

Sam smiled. "I think I'll stay here for a while."

"Sure." Jayne ambled across the bay floor to the stairs. "You feel like doing a set, you go ahead."

"I think I'll pass on that."

"Suit yourself." His boots rang on the metal treads as he climbed to the shuttle. "'Night."

"Goodnight." Sam watched the door close, and sat back. This certainly was an interesting crew.

-

"Do you practice that?" Freya asked, tucking the blanket a little closer around Ethan's shoulders but not looking round.

"What?"

"Standing just so in the doorway. And smiling like that."

"You don't know I'm smiling." He paused. "Okay, maybe you know, but … how am I smiling anyway?"

"That slow smile. The one that begins with your eyes and ends up somewhere a lot further south. At least as far as I'm concerned."

"You saying it affects you somewhat?"

"Perhaps."

"Care to elaborate?" He stepped up behind her, looking over her shoulder at their sleeping children.

"It's a lazy smile like you've just taken the last of the cream and you're licking it from your whiskers."

"I mean how it affects you. And are you comparing me to a cat?"

"Maybe." She leaned back a little into him. "You do currently have the whiskers."

"I ain't a cat person. Never did see the point to them, truth be told. Just sitting all day in the sun …"

"Jealous?"

"Big time."

"Good." She turned and smiled at him, then walked back into the other room.

He followed, sliding the door to after him. He reached for her, but she moved away. He raised his eyebrows. "Frey?"

"You were attracted to Hannah."

"Yes, I was. She was a nice lady."

She busied herself tidying things for a moment. "Maybe she's the kind of woman you need. Someone strong." She moved her incense holder a fraction of an inch. "I gave in."

Suddenly he was behind her, taking hold of her hand and making her turn to face him. "Freya, stop. Stop this right now. And damn well look at me."

She slowly lifted her face, afraid of what she might see. But it was only love, a pure, earth-shattering love in his blue eyes. "I thought you might –"

"No. You didn't think."

"I saw her in your mind … I'm sorry. I thought you wanted someone who had never killed –"

He stopped her mouth with a kiss, long and tender, and when he needed to breathe again he moved away enough so he could speak. "I never did this with her, Frey. Never even kissed her. Because I knew it wasn't right. I knew I was yours, even if I couldn't remember your name." He felt the emotion in his chest almost overwhelm him. "I'd've come home to you somehow, my darling. If it took a thousand years of wandering."

She touched his Adam's apple as he spoke, feeling it move under her fingertips. "Mal …"

"What're you doing?" he asked gently.

"Making sure you're real."

"Real enough, _xin gan_."

She shivered. "Mal …"

"You thought I'd never say it again, didn't you? Call you that. My wife."

"No. I didn't. I never thought I'd hear your voice or touch you or taste you –"

He kissed her again. "Touch me, Frey. Taste me."

She did as she was told then reached up to pat his beard lightly just like their son had. "I don't remember being kissed by a man with one of these before."

He stroked the hair on his chin. "Don't you like it? I think it makes me look distinguished."

"It makes you look older."

"That's what I am, Frey. I'm a mean old man." He grinned.

"No, you're not. You're my young, handsome, inexhaustible husband, and I'll shoot anyone who says otherwise."

"Inexhaustible?"

"On a good day." She sighed.

"You really don't like the beard?"

"I suppose I could get used to it."

"Then I guess I could shave."

"Would you?"

He wrapped his arms around her even tighter. "Only for you, _ai ren_."

"That's nice. Or I could shave you."

"Your hands stopped shaking yet?"

She laughed. "Not … maybe tomorrow?"

"I'll put it in my diary." He sighed and closed his eyes, resting his chin on her head. "You have to promise me something, Frey."

She knew what he was going to say. "I wasn't thinking, Mal. I couldn't. And the darkness got too close."

"I know. But … there might come a time when I don't come back. Not 'cause I don't want to but … when that miracle doesn't happen. You've got to promise you won't do this again."

She didn't speak for a long time, and he thought she'd taken offence somehow, until her voice came softly from the depths of his chest.

"I was broken."

"I thought that was River's areas of expertise?"

"She doesn't have the monopoly on being crazy, Mal."

"Is that what you were?"

She looked up at him. "I was."

"And now?"

"Not so much. Although I think I still need mending." She pressed against him.

He raised one eyebrow. "If what I think you've got in mind is what you've actually got in mind, I'd like to point out I'm still recovering from a bullet wound."

"How about if I say I'll be gentle?"

Mischievousness twinkled in his blue eyes. "How about you say you won't?"

She laughed then disengaged carefully from his arms. "First things first." She walked to the shelf, reaching up for something. "Here."

He stared at the wedding ring lying on the palm of her hand. "You found it?"

"Jayne did. Along with your gun."

He shook his head slightly then looked up at her. "Gonna put it on me?"

"You want me to?"

"More'n anything, Frey." He watched as she slid it onto his finger. "I think I'm still up on the number of times I've put my rings on you, though," he said softly.

"Don't take it off again," she warned, then let herself be engulfed by him once more.

-

In the engine room Kaylee smiled as she put the broken catalyser back in its home.

"Momma?" Bethany stood in the doorway.

"Honey, you're supposed to be asleep."

The little girl grinned. "Too happy to sleep."

Her mother sighed with joy. "Know what you mean." She sat down on the edge of the engine and held out her arms, her daughter running to her and jumping into her lap. "Oof, you're getting heavy," she commented, cuddling her.

"Growing up."

"Not too fast."

"Fast enough. Just right. Uncle Mal said so." She snuggled closer. "Are we going to pick up Auntie River now?"

"That we are. And I think Uncle Jayne's pleased about that."

"He's thinking about her," Bethie admitted. "Icky things." She grimaced.

Kaylee laughed. "See, that's what comes of peeking."

"I know. But it's family."

"That it is." Kaylee smiled. "Well, I'm too wired to sleep, so how about you give me a hand? There's a few things need doing."

"For Serenity?" Bethie's face was shining.

"For Serenity." She put her daughter onto the floor. "Better go get changed, though," she added. "Gonna get greasy."

"Yes, Momma!" She ran out of the engine room, almost colliding with her father on the way.

"Are you making her work for her living now?" Simon asked, leaning in the doorway.

"Can't sleep," Kaylee admitted. "Neither of us."

"Me neither." He grinned at her, his face more relaxed than it had been in weeks, and she felt a rush of love for him. "So how about I go get changed too, and we both help out?"

Kaylee giggled. "Could be fun."

"Or maybe I'll just persuade Bethie to try to get to sleep again."

"Heard that!" came a little voice up the stairs. "Icky!"

* * *

**A.N.** In case there is anyone out there wondering about the title, it is from a John Masefield poem, which I quote: '_I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky, and all I ask is a tall ship, and a star to steer her by.'_ It just seemed … appropriate. Jane


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